Mr and Mrs Murdoch and the Lakeside Lasher
by RuthieBelle
Summary: It's a grand old Edwardian house party for the privileged-Julia's classmates from McGill University. However, once again, William and Julia prove that they can't go on weekend getaways.
1. Chapter 1

Title: William & Julia Murdoch and the Lakeside Lasher

Author:RuthieBelle

Rating: M

Summary: It's a grand old Edwardian house party for the privileged-Julia's classmates from McGill University. However, once again, William and Julia prove that they can't go on weekend getaways.

Notes: This is what happens when the two of us think it would be quite fun to come up with fic based upon a ubiquitous cartoon mystery show from the 1960's.

* * *

Chapter One

The look on William's face spoke a 1,000 words. She'd had the hotel bring down no fewer than four steamer trunks from the luggage room, and she'd used three for herself alone. Seizing the opportunity to splurge on some pretty new clothes, she'd shunned her typical workday wear of smart suits and opted for rather impractical frocks. It had been too easy actually, all she'd done was whisper the words "house party" to Monsieur Ducharme and his enthusiasm had rivaled hers.

The final tab had been downright extortionate, but Julia quickly excused it as she didn't do it often, and yes, perhaps three steamer trunks just for herself was a bit excessive. However, she was excited for a house party with her old friends from college.

William had come home for lunch, expecting to have a quick meal with Julia and finalize arrangements for their train trip later this afternoon to Newcastle, north of Toronto along Lake Ontario. She had been anticipating it for weeks now and told him she was going to use the hours before luncheon getting ready, barring any untimely murders. By the evidence all over their rooms, she had clearly spent her morning productively; the _quantity_ of luggage however was a bit shocking. He wondered why all the effort was necessary. "I know you are looking forward to seeing them, but why not just invite them to visit Toronto?"

"I suppose it'll simply be nice to get away from all of my responsibilities here. It's a chance to meet up with all of my friends at once again, to not be Dr. Ogden…to simply be Julia, or rather Mrs. Murdoch for once. I don't do it nearly enough," she said brightly. "Besides, you'll be there to protect me from that dreadful Donald Harvey," she muttered under her breath, nervously. She fingered the gold Mobius symbol resting in the hollow of her neck, his recent love gift to her.

"Well, I am glad you are planning to enjoy yourself. And I, for one, certainly do not mind you being Mrs. Murdoch." He pulled her close for a kiss to dispel her anxiety, setting a stray curl back behind her ear for good measure. Julia had not seemed quite herself lately, and he worried that the fertility treatments were taking their toll on her. Though he'd never dare mention it (he at least knew never to do that), she was slightly heavier than her customary weight, but he was secretly excited about her new voluptuousness. In addition, she had been a bit moodier of late and William suspected that the surge of hormones must be quite difficult. He was at a loss with how to deal with her at times, but he knew silence was most likely going to be the best option. Still, he hoped that the fresh country air and stimulation of friends might be just what she needed to relax.

He glanced again at her three trunks over brimming with colourful fabrics, and was glad there did not seem to be any additional _hats;_ the Windsor had a storage room full of Julia's hat boxes. Since she purchased her clothing with her own money he was wise enough to just shrug off the expense he'd been tallying in his head. William pointed to the remaining trunk. "Unless you are also bringing a small library of books, or planning on more dress shopping, I think I can make do with my hand luggage. I will have the house valet remove that extra one."

Julia opened the trunk to show it was almost full.

Giggling, Julia shook her head. "I may have taken the liberty of packing what I think you will need. Of course you can wear your suit for travel and other times, but you'll also need your evening clothes, your walking apparel which will have to do for hunting or shooting, and even a riding outfit, which I have taken the liberty of procuring for you," she proudly announced.

William's eyes got momentarily big and round upon surveying his wife's sartorial choices. "But, Julia," he tried to be reasonable. "We are only going Saturday to Monday, barely three days, and you have essentially packed the entire contents of my closet. The only thing missing is my gum boo…" He frowned when she flicked a garment aside to reveal his rubber muck boots were nestled next to his dress shoes and what appeared to be a new pair of English-style riding boots. "Ah, I see." But of course, he didn't. "Perhaps I misunderstood the length of this vacation? Or the amusements available in Newcastle?" Julia's growing frown checked his list of objections. "You are going to spend time with old friends. Surely you don't need to impress them with all of this pomp."

"William, it's not pomp. It's etiquette. It's just how things are done, is all. Don't tell me you dislike tradition all of a sudden?" she asks pointedly.

He coughed, just as pointedly, with a glimmer in his eye. "There are dreadful traditions which have nothing to do with etiquette. Besides, I thought we agreed we are a modern couple, or do you prefer to go more traditional in that regard?" He was gratified she smiled when he cocked an eyebrow. "And just who is this Donald Harvey? I thought it was only your friends who were invited."

"Oh, he's nothing really. Just a dreadful man who was a couple of years ahead of me at McGill. As you know, even though we weren't allowed to attend lectures with men as we were assumed to be too distracting to the male students, or worse yet, less than capable. He was a teaching assistant who worked in the laboratory. Rather creepy, actually" she said, trailing off with a rasp.

William was concerned about Julia's change in tone. He'd never seen her so unsettled because of a man "Then I do not understand why he will be amongst the guests. You cannot be the only one to find him objectionable."

"For reasons I cannot fathom, he was best friends with our hostess' older brother, Samuel, while we were at school. They had a rather serious falling out in their last year together—I am told it came to blows actually. I never knew what the rift was about, perhaps a love triangle or even about gambling debts. But, our hostess informed me he'll be there as his guest, unfortunately, so it would seem they've mended their relationship," she quietly replied, stroking his lapels with a deep sigh. "Alas, it won't be that terrible, you'll be there to protect me," she murmured, her voice husky.

William hummed his agreement, wrapping her up in his arms. Unfortunately the telephone jangled, interrupting the moment. Relinquishing her, he answered the call, and Julia fussed with one of her new outfits, showing it off to him with a swirl of skirts.

"William Murdoch here." The smile at watching her dance was replaced with a deep frown. "Yes, sir. I understand." He turned to Julia, who by this time knew what sort of call that was; she was standing there with slumped shoulders. "I am so sorry, Julia. That was the inspector. It seems I am needed. No…" he said quickly, "not a new murder so you are not required. I am being ordered to meet with the Crown Prosecutor about the McGivney trial. I have to go right away for an interview."

Her face winced in the disappointment she knew would soon follow. Yet she still hoped. "You will make our train at four, won't you William?"

William hesitated. The very thought of being cooped up for three days in a house with nineteen strangers having to listen to or produce mindless, pleasant small talk made giving court testimony seem, if not preferable, certainly less onerous. The really painful part was disappointing Julia. "I imagine not. The trial…"

"William, you've promised," she snapped, stomping her foot. "I'm starting to think that you have no desire to travel with me. Is our honeymoon the only excursion out of this city that we'll ever make together?" she asked with a high voice, hands on her hips.

He crossed the room to take her hand, worried at how strongly she was reacting to this turn of events. It made him suspicious and nervous there was an underlying issue he was missing. "I will go anywhere with you, to the ends of the earth if necessary," he said, placing a kiss on each hand, "but the McGivney trial is the culmination of seven month's work and opening arguments will be next week. You can and should go to visit with your friends without me – Mrs. White's invitation to the party is primarily for the alumnae of McGill after all, not their spouses; I expect having me there would only serve to limit your opportunities to catch up." He searched her face and raised one corner of his mouth. "As for Mr. Harvey, I also suspect you know how to handle a boorish man."

"Well, it's not like it's the first time you've chosen work over me," she muttered. "I suppose I can always hit him where it counts if it comes to that."

He flinched at her first comment but chose to only respond to the second. "That _is_ one solution." He was flummoxed by her attitude. His job called him regularly and inconveniently out of his leisure time, something Julia really should be used to now, never mind that her own occupation made the same demands. He kissed her again, feeling the need to defend himself. "Julia, I am not making a choice, you _know_ that. If this was a murder trial, Mr. Stanley would be making the same demand on you as well. Be glad that is not the case."

Julia's eyes flashed in anger, and she rolled her shoulders back in defiance. "It simply would not happen. I would inform Mr. Stanley that I had plans and that I would not be staying. If he had any concerns, perhaps he should have taken the time to speak with me earlier as opposed to demand that I cancel my plans and disappoint my family who will always come before work. Lack of planning or perceived inadequacies on his part are no concern of mine, nor should they be yours," she snapped. "I am going!"

Julia was not mollified. Did she think she was secondary to work for him? William had no idea what else to say. "Well, I suppose that settles it then. You have been looking forward to this, so go on yourself to visit your friends without me. I _will_ miss you and I _am_ sorry I will not be going with you this time. I promise, once the trial is over we will take a weekend anywhere you like," William offered. "Just the two of us, on any adventure you choose."

He knew he was being reckless with that sort of promise; one never knew what Julia Ogden might come up with, however she was clearly so upset about his having to work he wanted to make it up to her. He tried to soften it further with humour, giving her a hug and a wrinkled smile. "Besides, it may be for the best I am not going. You will recall what happened the last time you invited me to a house party and I accepted?"

"Really William, I don't see why you insist on bringing that dreadful memory back up," she retorted, a mixture of hurt and anger in her eyes.

William's face coloured, acknowledging his _mea culpa._ "Julia, I am sorry, but I have to go. Mr. Stanley is waiting. I will meet you at the station when you return late Monday night. Have a good time." With that and another peck on the cheek, William took his coat and hat and left.

As Julia stared at the closed door, the tears welled up in her eyes as she stomped over to the drink cart.

 _Damn you, William Murdoch!_ With a guttural but well-placed snort, she poured a whiskey and quickly tossed it back as she surveyed the luggage. _Since when has he preferred work to me? Or has he always? How the hell are we supposed to ever conceive if we're apart at my most fertile time of month?_

The tears stung as she quickly wiped them away, shaking her head. _Well, I'll be damned if I unpack for him_ , she thought with another snort. William really must be forward thinking or quite naïve if he is so willing to let me attend a house party alone _Modern marriage, indeed!_

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

William's interview with Crown Prosecutor Stanley was brutal. "That man questioned me as if I was the defendant!" William fumed to Inspector Brackenreid, as he crossed and re-crossed the tiny space in front of his superior's desk in outrage.

"You know how he is. Stanley is new at this and is just making sure nothing falls apart on him at trial," Brackenreid saluted the wall clock on his office wall with a tumbler of scotch and a chortle. "You got out of there in record time, Murdoch. The boys were betting you'd not see daylight before he was done with you." The inspector got tired of wagging his head left and right to follow his detective's pacing. "Sit down! Tell me…did you answer all his questions? Satisfy him that we have the case all sewn up?"

William stopped and sat heavily in a small black leather settee. "Yes, I believe so. For some reason he still wants to rehearse each witness again. He asked me to call George over for him next. And even though he has finished with me, he wants me to remain on hand, just in case," he complained. "I have testified more often than he has ever presented cases. It is just a little galling, that is all."

"And so you'll have to take a pass on that trip with the missus." Brackenreid leaned back in his chair. "My wife would give her eye teeth to go to one of those overblown, gentry, country-house to-do's. Of course, if she really knew what happened at those things, I'd wager she'd change her mind right quick."

William frowned, unclear what the inspector was referencing. "I thought you did not approve of upper class pretensions, sir."

Brackenreid just laughed. "I don't. But I can't say as I'd mind the after dinner brandy and cigar smoking while playing a little snooker on the upper-crust's dime. Don't worry, you'll have to put up with my company instead. I am sure there is a pile of paperwork you'd rather be finishing…"

William thought about his inbox and nodded.

"Or a nice thick scientific magazine to peruse?"

William almost smiled.

"Or an invention you are tinkering with in your office…"

This time William grinned. "Why, as a matter of fact…"

"…Because God forbid you go and have any fun!" Brackenreid hollered out into to the bullpen. "Crabtree!"

The constable poked his head in. "Yes sir?"

"Murdoch here is going to be with us today and tomorrow after all, so you are off the hook to pick up his slack. He'll fill you in on what the Crown Prosecutor wants from you, then he'll get back to work." The inspector dropped his voice. "Who won the pool?"

George also whispered with a sly quirk of his lips. "Higgins, sir. Two dollars and forty cents."

William brought George into his own office, mulling what the inspector had said. It was not the first time he'd been accused of being dull, and wondered if that was part of Julia's complaint. Business was at hand, however. "Crown Prosecutor Stanley wants you over at his office to go over your testimony." He held his hand up. "I know we have already done so, but he insists."

George asked. "Are you really going to miss out on your week-end with Dr. Ogden?"

"I am afraid so." William paused, going over the scene with Julia in their apartment. "They are _her_ school friends…at least most of them are. She mentioned one of the men who was invited had been difficult in the past, but she thought she'd be able to take care of it."

"Well, sir, if I may say so. Dr. Ogden is one woman who is more than capable of defending herself. I'm certain she will not need you..."

William's head shot up, not liking what he was hearing.

"Well what I mean is, she has been in tough situations before and handled herself admirably. Miss Pearce, Harlan Orgill, Miss Grimes…" George stuck his right arm out, imitating a 'clothesline' take down. "Rescuing you from drowning... I …I would not want to cross her myself," George stuttered as he backed out of the office. "I, umm, should be going. Mr. Stanley is waiting on me…"

William watched George scuttle through the doorway, unsure of his own course of action. There was in fact no need for him to remain in Toronto on standby just because the prosecutor was insecure at his job. The combination of George's and Brackenreid's comments made him slightly queasy as if suddenly his desire to remain in Toronto came up against a need to fill his role as her husband by her side.

With one last look at the papers on his desk and the device he was in the middle of constructing, he pulled his watch out. _If I call the hotel to dispatch the trunk, I can get to the train just in time._ He took in a huge breath to signal an uncharacteristic defiance of authority.

 ** _"_** ** _Inspector..?"_**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

As Julia stepped out of the waiting lounge, she looked around, hoping to see that William had changed his mind. He had not. The situation reminded her of the time she left for Buffalo, and she hoped that history would not repeat itself.

Alas, the only last minute addition was a lone trunk being loaded into the baggage car, attended by none other than Henry and Wade, porters from the Windsor House Hotel. She waved in greeting and they bowed in return before quickly taking their leave.

She honestly could not decide whether to be furious or hurt at his abandoning her…she'd wanted him with her this weekend and had even looked forward to it.

Sighing, she boarded her assigned car, only to find a man already in her assigned seat, and just as she started to speak, the familiar-looking silhouette rose and turned around.

William tipped his hat politely, his face wreathed in a huge smile. "There you are! I was beginning to think you were the one who had decided not to go," he teased. He took her hatbox and bag from her surprised hand, placing them on the rack above their seat.

"Oh William," she murmured, throwing herself into his arms. "I can't tell you how happy I am that you caught the train this time," hoping he'd catch the meaning.

Having her smile at him, and such a public display of affection, was worth any irritation from Mr. Stanley. "I must say I am pleased as well."

"How…?" she inquired.

"Let is say that I was able to dispose of the matter in record time." He was not going to admit there had been a bet going on or that he'd left the heavy explaining to Inspector Brackenreid with a little white lie if necessary.

After they had settled into their seats, Julia had curled into William and had even laid her head on his shoulder as they stared out the window, watching the outskirts of Toronto as they left the city behind. Julia raised her eyes, seeing the blue sky held exuberant stripes of pink as the sun lowered in the west, feeling as light and airy as the clouds since William agreed to join her.

"As I will be accompanying you, perhaps you can fill me in a bit about your years at university. I know some about medical school but really very little about McGill other than what you and Dr. Osler spoke of. You were part of the second class of women, were you not?"

"Yes, I was. There were eight _Donaldas_ in the first class to graduate. Their names will be remembered by history if I don't miss my guess." She laughed lightly at William's quizzical expression. "Female students were called the 'Donaldas', if you can imagine, after Mr. Donald Smith, the primary benefactor for women's education at McGill. He gave the endowment to the school which allowed us to take courses towards degrees, albeit in separate classrooms, as long as the degrees were equivalent to the men's."

She sighed. "There was so much pressure on them; they bore the terrible expectations of those who counted on their success and those who counted on them to fail as you might imagine." Julia frowned at the recollection. "All the women who followed them, the pioneers, felt it as well. For me, it was an incredible experience, a complete upheaval from life as I had known it. It was the first time I had ever been away from my parents and from Ruby. It was a brave new world, and it was scary, but the other girls and I quickly bonded, out of necessity I suppose. We looked after one another so that we could be stronger collectively since it is much easier to intimidate one girl than an entire group."

William nodded approvingly. "Strength in numbers. But I thought you had you travelled in Europe before college. And that was on your own."

"Oh, that was my graduation gift from my father _after_ McGill. It really was a generous gift, but even then I knew he had ulterior motives. He was hoping that I could be dissuaded from medical college and would instead find a nice, young man to settle down with. Even arranged for me to be introduced to some of his acquaintances in England who tried to marry me off to their male offspring. Fortunately, his plan failed and I returned from the grand tour ready to start my medical studies more than ever," she shrugged with a smile.

Her smile was infectious. _Julia seems to have forgotten her blue mood,_ he noticed, hoping it would continue. "Quite fortunate for me, indeed. I imagine you wore him down about that. I cannot imagine him denying your heart's desire." William was only vaguely aware he was describing himself.

Julia looked at him for a beat or two before answering. "Oh, I'm sure he would have loved to have denied me funding, but the money I received from Mother was for that express purpose. She supported my desire for education and made provisions for such. My father may have tried to dissuade me, but he could not forbid me. He was actually worried about me cutting up bodies, can you believe that? But my experiences at McGill had prepared me for any resistance I may have encountered at Bishop's. After Donald Harvey, obstinate, pigheaded men were nothing new. Particularly actual men with the head of a pig like Donald," she laughed, shaking her head.

William laughed back. "Dr. Tash remarked to me once that you were a 'pistol' at school." He ducked a gentle swipe from her hand. "His words, not mine. He led me to believe you were as fearless then as you are now. It is beyond me that someone could get away with anything with you, even when you were younger—perhaps especially then."

"Yes, well even I need support and reassurance. I cannot do everything alone, nor do I want to," she countered.

Taking her hand between his, William was cautious about the alteration in her mood. "It must have been quite a challenge, I agree, especially if you were all on your own. I suppose in a small way I can understand what it is like to be an outsider. The harassment can be unbearable." His memory provided enough experiences of his own to attest to that and he certainly observed enough of that in his day-to-day work as an officer of the law.

"I think that's why we we've always worked so well together, William. We understand one another because we've faced similar obstacles. I do appreciate your support and your love, they are by far the best things in my life,"

"I always have and always will always support your aspirations," he reassured her.

"William, I know you support me, and I know you've faced discrimination on the basis of your faith, and hardships as a result of such. You should have been an Inspector or higher by now, but no one would know you are Catholic just by looking at you. But no one has ever barred you entry or prevented you from doing your job on the basis of your appearance, your race, or your sex. No one has assumed you couldn't do things because you were a man, or assumed liberties with your person because as a woman doing a man's job, or assumed that must also mean you had loose morals," she forcefully stated, surprising herself.

Julia's vehemence took him aback. Other passengers looked up, scowling at him for disturbing the peace by upsetting his wife. "No…no of course not," he said mildly.

"I'm sorry William; that came as an attack on you, and I didn't mean it as such. It's just that there was enormous pressure on us. I wasn't in the very first class, but I knew them, and all of us women had a great deal at stake. We knew that there were too many who were waiting to see us fail and proclaim that they were justified, that we had no right to higher education."

"That would clearly be a waste of intellect and just as clearly those nay-sayers have failed." He was tempted to offer consolation or a lecture, but thought the better of it. "I imagine that will make your reunion all the more validating; young women who overcame so much to make something of their natural talents…"

"Yes, I suppose it will be fun to see what we've all been up to since we left McGill. While I've probably seen the most scandal, I doubt I'm the only one who has enjoyed my mentions in the gossip columns," she giggled, her mood improving just as quickly as it had dived.

By the time the couple arrived at the Newcastle train station, William felt Julia's mood was back to being light and gay.

"How can it be that I'm excited and nervous all at the same time?" Julia wondered aloud. "I'm excited to see how we've all changed and how we've remained the same. Can you even believe that there may have been some drunken promises about never getting old? Of course, I'm afraid we've all managed to break that one in varying ways," she chattered on. "Except for me, of course. I'll never get old," she stated jauntily.

A handful of passengers disembarked into a mild November night, spilling onto a deserted platform to be collected by waiting carriages and a buck-board. The train crew was efficient at unloading people and baggage so that in no time the engine was huffing off again. William surveyed the scene, unsure how they were getting to their destination. "Who is meeting us?" William asked.

"I am not sure, but there is only one conveyance waiting, so I assume it is for us."

Julia pointed to a brightly painted contraption which looked to William more like a Gypsy Brush vardo than anything suitable for transporting two passengers and their four large trunks. Under the glow of an electric lamp, it was possible to see the body of the wagon was painted bright blue, with lime-green insets and orange flowers and scrollwork. Two stout black cob horses pulled it. A small man dismounted when they approached and pulled at the front of his soft cap.

"Miss Ogden?" he asked. "Mrs. White sends her compliments. I am Baylis and will be taking you on." Just then the lighting snapped off.

"What just happened?" Julia asked, eyes adjusting to the gloom.

Mr. Baylis merely shrugged. "The town lights go out at midnight. I will get your boxes." The man turned and moved off to do so.

William thanked his retreating back. "Man of few words," he commented to Julia.

"Much like you, I'd wager," she jibed lightheartedly.

Mr. Baylis was as strong as his horses, easily fitting the trunks and Julia's hand luggage inside, his two passengers up and behind him, before picking up the reins. The wagon headed southwest towards their destination, the Nottingham house on the banks of Lake Ontario and right next to the Wilmont River. When asked, Mr. Baylis offered that his family was taking temporary work in the stables and on the grounds before the snow came.

Lulled into a companionable silence by the rhythmic clopping of the horses' hooves along with the damp chill of the lovely late fall weather, Julia again laid her head on William's shoulder and the two enjoyed some brief canoodling before the terrain changed and the road became bumpier.

From their perch, William and Julia were gently jostled as the roads gave way to carriage traces for about twenty minutes. Soon, the lake to the south became obvious as ripples of reflected starlight in the distance. Eventually the horses approached a long causeway which fed under an enormous black iron gate, an entwined "NDN" crowing the arch. Ahead of them was a large structure with many lighted windows and a sheltering _porte-cochère_.

William was helping his wife down when a woman of about Julia's height with smooth auburn hair and thick glasses came rushing down the low steps, followed by an enormous fawn-coloured dog with a black muzzle, nearly a yard tall at the shoulders. "Julia Ogden! Oh my goodness. I am so glad you made it!"

When the woman enveloped Julia in a hug the dog lunged at William and would have bowled him over if Mr. Baylis had not intervened. On its hind legs the dog rivaled the wagon-driver in height.

"Here now. Skidoo. Down you!" Baylis insisted, and the massive dog obeyed immediately, much to William's relief.

Their hostess broke her greeting to say, "Thank you, Baylis. Would you please see to the luggage? And have Mr. Shaggis take Skidoo?" She turned to Julia, motioning to the dog. "He didn't scare you, did he? He is a German boarhound, what they are calling now a _grand danois_ or 'Great Dane' _._ He looks intimidating but he is really more frightened of you than you are of him, I'm sure. "

Julia was not quite reassured, but her pleasure at seeing her friend overrode everything. It was comforting, if a little unnerving, to see that her friend had hardly changed a whit in twenty years—perhaps a little thinner, but her black eyes were huge and sparkled being her glasses. The pumpkin-coloured sweater over a red skirt was classic. Thelma as were the low heeled shoes. Just looking at her friend took two decades away. "Thank you so much for opening your house and allowing us to all meet up again. I still remember that one time you had a few of us here between school terms, and what fun we all had!" Julia gushed to her hostess before remembering William.

"Oh, do forgive me. May I present my husband, William Murdoch? William, this is our hostess Mrs. Thessalonica Wilmont White."

"Julia! You know that it's _Thelma!_ " She turned to William apologetically. "I am so pleased to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine. Thank you for the invitation to your home, Mrs. White." William removed his hat and shook her hand.

" _Thelma_ , please. My father was in a Biblical mood when he named me and my brother Samuel. Thank goodness another inspiration caught him in time for our little sister, Daphne."

Thelma brought them into the reception hall ablaze with candles and kerosene lamps. "As I'm sure you've noticed by now, we only have electricity from between the hours of seven o'clock to midnight. Being so rural, the utilities simply haven't made it out here just yet, I'm afraid, which is why grandfather installed a generator for the town," their hostess explained as servants took their trunks up to their room.

"No need to apologize, the atmosphere is really quite intriguing. I think a weekend _sans électricité_ sounds quite fascinating," Julia interjected.

"I must admit I find a certain charm with it myself," Thelma agreed. "It's the perfect respite from the hectic pace of the modern city. Besides, I know it's not technically the Season for a house party, but I don't know that we'll still own the house next summer. As much as we love it, it seems neither Samuel, Daphne or I are much interested in taking care of it," she pronounced with a shrug.

Julia smiled knowingly. "Well I have never cared a fig about the Season and I am planning to enjoy myself. Where _are_ your brother and sister?"

"Daphne has managed to tip a tray of sandwiches on the floor, so she is consulting with the cook on refreshments and Samuel is supervising some last minute repair or other. It's all he seems to be doing lately—hence the desire to sell. But enough about that, I should think Margaret will be down any moment now," she guessed just as another woman hurried out of a side room and over to greet Julia.

Julia had to blink a couple of times before recognizing the plump woman with a cloud of blonde hair. Unlike Thelma, twenty years and forty pounds had made a difference. "Margaret! How wonderful. Thelma was not sure you would make it," Julia enthused, embracing the woman with obvious pleasure.

"I got here early this morning. Oh, nothing could stop me! Not four children, a husband, nor his mother! Rose and Bruce Nottingham are here, Samuel and Daphne, of course and Grant King…" She brought her face closer to whisper. "Donald and Dorcas are around somewhere and have been here a couple days I'm told."

"I really was hoping that something would happen and that they wouldn't make it," Julia sympathized.

"Well, we shall have to make this an enjoyable weekend in spite of Mr. Harvey's presence, won't we?" Thelma interjected, having caught the private conversation.

Caught red-handed, Julia and Margaret agreed.

"Margaret Swift, allow me to introduce my husband, William Murdoch. William, Margaret, née Horvath, was the one who checked my mathematical proofs much like you do today," she announced. "She may have also found a way to get one of the school societies to share their purloined copies of tests with us," Julia proudly stated.

William bowed slightly over Margaret's proffered hand.

"Pleased to meet you, I'm sure. I hope you will not be too bored; you understand of course how old college chums can be when they get together. It must be the same for you."

William had no time to demure because Margaret called over to their hostess. "Thelma, the Leonids meteor shower is peaking. Did your gardener, Mr. Shaggis, set out the telescope?"

"Indeed, he has," Thelma agreed, gesturing towards the door.

"William, can I interest you in getting lost in the stars with some hot chocolate?" Julia asked with an impish grin.

William was intrigued about astronomical observations and a chance to stretch his legs after the long train ride. He assumed Julia wished to spend as much time with her friends as possible, so he consented to being dragged out into a broad lawn behind the house with nothing but lake and sky as far as the eye could see. The setting was perfect for stargazing: no light from civilization, (the windows on the southern side of the house were all unlit), moonless and unseasonably warm temperatures outside, with no breeze. Someone whom he assumed was the gardener was setting out blankets around a large telescope, 'Skidoo' docilely at his heels. William wandered over to have a closer look at the Milky Way stretching overhead on the high moonless vault. Trying to stay out of the dog's way, he stumbled over a stone, nearly falling over for the second time that night.

The gardener caught him hard by the elbow. "Careful, Mister. Its full dark for to see the stars but rocky if you stray off the lawn, and dangerous in the woods. Can't have another mishap, eh? Too many of them already." William was embarrassed to say the least. The other man made his observation and melted into the blackness.

William took his time looking at the stars before being joined by Julia, who slipped her hand in one of his…while a warm, wet nose and tongue nuzzled the other. He saw that Julia also held a leather lead.

"Perhaps Mr. Shaggis lost his grip on the beast?" William wiped his hand on a handkerchief.

"Why William!" she teased. "It would seem that you've made yet another four-legged friend," she giggled and handed him the leash.

Thelma and Margaret brought Bruce and Rose Nottingham over to be introduced while another servant brought the hot chocolate out for all to enjoy.

William sipped the hot sweet liquid and tried to stay interested in the conversation, but it became so deep in reminisces he could not follow. The dog tugged him away towards the greenhouse where, he assumed, Skidoo was kenneled in the gardener's care.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It was almost three in the morning before Julia and William were shown to their bedroom, awash in the glow of lamplight reflected off odd and slanting angles in the walls and ceiling. William agreed that it was a romantic-looking chamber. Their trunks were unpacked and the contents hanging in built-in cupboards and a plush four-poster bed dominated the space. A brief wash-up found William snuggled under soft blankets, listening to the breeze outside beginning to rattle the windowpanes as he watched Julia shimmy out of her undergarments.

"Now, aren't you glad you came?" Julia asked while taking her temperature, and taking her time undressing. She was fully aware that William loved watching her in a state of déshabille.

"I've quite enjoyed myself so far, Julia," William admitted with a contented yawn. "Not just for the telescope. Mr. Nottingham seems a pleasant fellow, and I had an interesting chat with Mr. Shaggis, but I'll be glad for a few hours sleep…it has been a long day. There will be even more guests here tomorrow, no?"

"Yes, in addition to Donald Harvey, Samuel's friends the Harrington twins will be here as well as one of my closest friends as well as a rival of sorts, Philomena Murray. I must say that I'm quite pleased that she finally settled down with Marcus…she was quite the young lady about Montreal while we were at McGill…a different suitor every week it seems," she said with a laugh as she pulled out a lavender silk night gown and wriggled her body as she slipped it down over her hips.

"Plus Skidoo seemed quite taken with you. Poor Pistachio has competition it seems," she giggled upon seeing his face as she extinguished the lamp and slid under the covers to join him.

William had been distracted for a minute with Julia and her thermometer, wondering if she felt sick or feverish, or if it was the 'optimum time' of month she had spoken about. There were absolutely no indicators of illness—her bright eyes and high colour spoke of desire. He was happy to see she was still wearing her gold necklace, and to see she was warming it against her skin.

Curling into him, she quietly placed her hand under his pajama top and toyed with the waistband of his pajama bottoms before slipping her hand inside them and taking hold of him in her hand. " _Lemniscate…"_ she whispered.

"But not too long a day…" William's drowsiness was immediately replaced by awareness of Julia's fingers on his flesh. She was happy and relaxed and wanted him…how could he refuse? His first moan of pleasure was smothered by her kiss…

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

 _….William heard the tea whistle from far, far away, annoyed that Mrs. Kitchen was not taking it off the hob..._

After enjoying Julia he'd fallen into an immediate and deeply satisfied slumber, his mind empty of thought. It was only when Julia stirred beside him that he realized he'd been dreaming. The noise was no kettle; instead it was wind coming through some opening or other in the house's eaves, setting up a high-pitched screech. Above him he heard a slam, which finally brought Julia fully awake.

"What was _that?"_ she asked, suddenly awake.

William chuckled, putting his hands over his head. "You have heard the station house whistle when the wind really blows. Any opening, especially a small one, works much like a pipe organ, or even the narrow opening of a bottle neck to produce a note."

"And that bang?"

"A guest not used to walking around in the dark, I suppose."

" _Or_ it could be a ghost," Julia giggled. "Can you imagine all of the shenanigans that being must have witnessed?"

He put on a mock-outraged face. "A Peeping-Tom from the beyond?"

"A colourful appellation—quite creative," she made a throaty laugh. "Well, if it is a voyeuristic ghost, the least we could do is give something worth watching. And if it is a malevolent being, then it seems that I am in need of your protection," she murmured, unbuttoning his pajama top.

"Julia! If you are going to be insatiable, then why bother with nightclothes…?" he teased, sliding the thin, pale silk she wore, up, up, up her legs as his own desire rose…


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Despite a scant few hours' rest, William was awake and restless by seven Saturday morning, possessing a voracious appetite. _Must be the fresh country air_ , he reckoned, before gazing at his wife's naked shoulder, reminding him happily that one appetite tended to fuel the next.

He completed morning ablutions while Julia slept then consulted his trunk. He was glad that in preparation for this trip he'd thumbed through his copy of _The Gentlemen's Companion_ , to brush up enough not to embarrass his wife, so he selected the tweed walking suit as appropriate for morning at a country house. He was aware that breakfast was not until nine o'clock at the earliest, so he left Julia a short note. A quick glance back, and he quietly left the room and went out into the long hallway.

In daylight, the house was bright and inviting as William strode down the stairs and found his way back through the entryway towards the sound of voices. One part of his mind observed the interior of the house was somewhat oddly put together, the rooms not really harmonizing in proportions. Arriving at the drawing room, he discovered a long table where servants were setting out linens and chafing dishes for the expected fruits, eggs, potted meats, fish, toast, rolls, tea cakes, muffins, hams, tongues, pies, kidney, and fried bacon. He was wishing the tea was already steeping and a slice of toast might be had—but saw nothing hopeful. He did not wish to disturb the household staff in the midst of their duties and was about to sulk, until he spied morning newspapers fanned out on the table. _I can read until nine or nine thirty, I suppose._

With a sigh towards his rumbling stomach, he chose the _Toronto Gazette_ and a chair in an alcove with good daylight, to wait out of the way for either Julia to come down or some food to appear. From behind the paper he heard the servants going about their business before other guests entered also looking for an advance on breakfast. Two women were talking casually as they took a turn around the table, picking through newspapers.

A high voice drifted over. "….it was frightful! The cold just centered in our room over the bed—scared the living daylights out of me. And that moaning at three in the morning, like an unquiet spirit or someone having a nightmare. I had to wake my husband up, I was so disturbed. Hard to get to sleep with all that…"

William shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying to shrink down in the wingback chair, concerned it was not the house that was moaning last night.

"…And then it started over again right when the wind picked up, like a ghost…" her voice quavered.

William's face flared hot, fairly sure he and Julia were louder than they thought.

"Yes, I heard it too. And did you hear the wind whistle? This is a summer house. I mean it is lovely here on the lake, but no wonder no one stays here much past October with all that creaking and groaning. The house must close up before the first snow: I cannot imagine travelling that causeway, all iced up and in the dark…"

William recognized that was Margaret Swift's voice.

The high-voiced woman continued on a tangent. "Did you say Caroline Balfour came in late last night? When did she get married? I just got a glimpse of a very handsome man outside gazing at the stars and assumed that was her husband," the voice lifted even higher at the end in question. "Who else could catch such a delicious man?"

"No! That is Julia Ogden's husband. Can you believe it?"

 _"_ _No..!"_

"Ladies!" A third woman interrupted.

"Phil! Good gracious! Will you come for a morning outing before breakfast?" Margaret asked.

"No. Please go on without me, I want to read the paper in peace and quiet." That new woman effectively shut down the gossip and cleared the room.

William hoped he was invisible, finding himself holding his breath. Unfortunately his growling stomach gave him away.

"I see I am not the only one who is hungry," a contralto voice observed pleasantly enough in William's direction. "Perhaps Cook can produce tea and a loaf of bread and jam – nursery fare if you like, for those of us who are used to being up early."

She pushed through the baize door into the kitchen area, asking for her needs and got a yes ma'am from a servant.

William continued to read until the woman approached him. Lowering the pages, he saw an athletic-looking woman in brown tweed trousers and a hacking jacket.

She stuck her hand out with a smile, examining him in detail with penetrating grey eyes. "Doctor Philomena Kinney," she introduced herself, "Or shall I say Mrs. Marcus Murray for the purposes of this weekend? I don't believe we have been introduced, but I am guessing you are the man Margaret and Leonetta Fairweather were gossiping about. Don't mind them. "

William coughed, set his paper aside and rose to greet her, taking her firm hand in his. "William Murdoch," he said simply. "Er…Thank you," he tried to encompass the food and embarrassing rescue without further humiliation.

"Don't mention it. It's rude and boorish to openly discuss someone like that even if it is true," the woman commented with a wink and a smile while giving him an appreciative glance.

He cleared his throat. "Doctor Kinney is it? Did you also go to medical school with Julia?" William wanted to change the way the conversation was going as quickly as possible onto safer subjects.

"Heaven's no!" she said with a delicate shudder. "Doctorate in philosophy, from Cornell University in New York. I write and lecture; like your wife I continue with my own name. You may have something in common with my husband, Marcus, in that regard," her light eyes challenged.

William nodded his head slightly. "If that is unequivocal support for women's full social participation, then yes." He was seeing a little of what Julia liked in this woman; she was not extraordinarily beautiful, but her poise and humour were engaging. "And your area, if I may ask?"

"What Bernard de Fontenelle called the 'Age of the Academies' which they are now calling the Enlightenment period. My particular interest is in the scientific discoveries and their effects on the common man."

William could feel his face blossom into a broad smile. "Indeed, I have similar interests."

The two of them ate bread and jam, quietly talking while the tea pot between them emptied. William was so absorbed he was not even aware that the servants had lit the warming lamps and were setting out dishes so that the guests could serve themselves casually and at their leisure. A clank of plates caught their attention to their surroundings and the time.

Philomena offered a self-deprecating laugh. "It _is_ absorbing, is it not? Ah, but so hard to make a living at! Where did you take your degree, if I may? My husband has wasted his in banking as far as I am concerned, but his work does afford me a library. I do hope you are not a physician like Julia, I find the human body interesting, but not for academic perusal." She leaned forward in her chair with enthusiasm.

William fought to hold an easy smile. "No, er…Julia is the only doctor in the family." This was part of what he dreaded about coming to this weekend. It was seldom that the lack of a university degree ever entered his consciousness; he held his own no matter what the arena was when he was conducting police work. But he felt diminished in company such as this when it was a purely social situation. His fingers rose to his brow, wishing he had a ready answer. _Foolish of me not to have thought one out beforehand_.

"…Phil! I can scarcely believe it! Can it have been so long?" Julia's clear voice called out as she sailed across the room to stand between Phil and her husband.

 _Rescued again_ , William told himself. _I hope I don't need this to become a habit._

He stood to greet her and to give her a peck on the cheek. "Good morning Julia," and was surprised she kissed him back rather decidedly.

"I see you've made the acquaintance of my husband," Julia motioned to William behind her.

For her part, Julia meant it when she'd told William that she liked Philomena, but the two had always been quite competitive. There was little doubt in Julia's mind that Phil would take an interest in William – and not just in a friendship sort of way. When she said Phil had been quite the lady about town, she'd been trying to politely phrase the fact that she had always had a voracious appreciation of men.

"Julia!" Philomena stood to give a hug. "It's our little secret, but your husband and I share quite a passion already." When Julia did not react she went on. "John Locke, Sir Francis Bacon, Voltaire and Rousseau. Post-Restoration poets! Where ever did you find him?"

Julia just sighed at her husband's bewilderment and her friend's wide-eyed and studiously bland expression. A giggle built up inside her at the absurdity, and she laughed, setting Philomena to laughing right back. "Oh Phil, you never change!" _What else was there to do_? she whispered to herself.

William smiled nervously as his mouth watered. In Julia's wake had come their hostess, Thelma, dressed in a maroon linen divided skirt and mustard-coloured jacket. Her sister Daphne was an amazing sight with a braid of bright red hair, swathed in a light purple unstructured house dress with matching lavender heels, an emerald scarf at her throat. Brother Samuel was dressed in tweed pants and a sweater; this gave William some relief he'd guessed correctly about the proper attire. The Wilmonts were followed by the larger portion of other guests who lifted the silver dish covers, wafting savory smells his way.

Julia noticed his attention had wandered towards the food. "Shall we?" she waved her hand towards the sideboard, glad to separate Philomena from William.

At the serving station, William raised an eyebrow at her choice of cherry brandy as a morning beverage, but thankfully remained silent. She had expected him to be grumpier about the lateness of the breakfast hour, but she was proud of herself for managing to make him crack a smile and even blush a little when a servant brought out a carafe of fine, Turkish coffee and she asked him if would join her in enjoying a cup.

She wondered if he would ever admit out loud that he hated the concoction and had partaken only for her sake?

Still, so accustomed she had become to her daily workman's breakfast of toast, eggs, and tea, even she was overwhelmed at the choices spread before her at the breakfast table. She opted for the thick slices of back bacon instead of fish to accompany her fried eggs and was now enjoying a tart cranberry muffin. _A pity really that blueberries weren't available year round_. She wondered at the abstemious plate her husband chose for himself: two slices of bacon and one egg.

"You know there will only be tea this afternoon and supper will not be for another twelve hours," she whispered.

William was not going to admit he'd wolfed down half a loaf of bread already. He merely patted his waist and gave her a private look that was so suggestive she nearly blushed in return.

"Now, now, William. If you give me looks like that, you most assuredly will need more to eat than that," she whispered back.

The rest of the breakfast hour was taken up with the hellos, exchange of greetings, small stories about recent life events, family updates and the day's plans as the guests came down to eat and remained in the withdrawing room to socialize.

As she sipped her brandy, Julia surveyed the group and pointed out the rest of the party. "Of course you've met Phil, Margaret, Thelma, Daphne and Samuel, also Bruce and Rose Nottingham. The dapper gentleman with blue sweater and scarf is Phil's husband, Marcus. The thin brown haired woman is Dorcas, Donald Harvey's wife, poor woman."

Just then a petite, obsidian-haired woman with striking blue eyes glided into the room and greeted Julia and the others at once. "That is Caroline Balfour."

William's curiosity had been piqued ever since he'd been eavesdropping on Margaret and Leonetta, and he could not help but look. "I heard something about her this morning. Another guest seemed to think she is out to catch a man." _Well, not exactly a lie_ …he rationalized to himself.

"This really is quite a charming house, Thelma," commented Margaret, who had returned with Leonetta from their morning walk with an appetite, if the contents of her plate were any indication.

"Just an old house," Thelma politely deferred, hoping to quash the subject.

Inevitably the topic of the house prompted a few guests to grumble about the house's quirks. William was diverted by another guest who asked a question he was also interested in the answers for.

"That must be why the doors will just open suddenly for no reason…"

"Or slam shut..!"

"Or the door knobs stick…"

"I slipped and nearly fell getting out of bed – like someone pulled the rug out from under me!"

"The railing nearly gave way…"

"I found water in the floor…"

"As I said, an older house has its personality," Thelma tried again.

Of course then there were the noisy disturbances Friday night to complain about starting with Keziah Atkinson. "You are just used to it perhaps Thelma, but I am not. I thought it was supposed to be quiet in the country, but honestly a freight train is stealthier!" She implored her husband, Josiah, to support her; he merely stuffed more salmon in his mouth.

Instead Leonetta Fairweather leapt to her defense. "We heard it too. I swear it was Marley's ghost last night with all the clanking and moaning! I could not sleep a wink!"

Julia choked a bit on her brandy when William shot her a guilty glance. _Oh, my! Was that moaning us?_ She saw his face colour, therefore she knew it was an accurate guess. A smile played at the edges of her mouth, covered quickly by another sip.

"Are the ghosts part of the charm too, then, Thelma?" commented one of the Harrington twins as he quaffed his ale to the laughter of the other guests. "Our bedroom door stuck closed—we needed to unhinge the door to get it open!" The Harringtons, Clyde and Clinton, tall and blonde, said this as if it was jolly fun to be trapped.

"Perhaps, Clyde. Or perhaps they're calling for you as some sort of reckoning from your past actions," Thelma quipped back.

"That happened to use as well! Maybe it was one the spirits that locked Marcus and I in our room early this morning. We had to call a servant to let us out," Philomena stated with a laugh.

"Or could it be a jealous wife locking you in, Phil," Grant King theorized over his toast and potted meat.

"We've done worse in the old days, Grant. Remember when Sam and I took your sleeping arse and set you afloat to wake up in La Fontaine Park? You were so drunk you didn't know up from down!"

Grant was not amused, and Julia saw he was ready to argue.

"Really, is that what we gathered here for…?" Julia interrupted before it could get uglier. "To relive our petty disputes that should really be long buried?"

By this time, William had stopped eating and had raised an eyebrow at all the sniping.

No sooner than Julia had spoken, a large, florid man of impressive girth with a loud, insistent voice entered, making a direct line for the food. Samuel followed a short distance behind.

Given the reactions of the women as he strode into the room, along with the fact that the man did resemble an actual pig, William surmised that this new man must be Donald Harvey.

"Ladies! Gentlemen! I assure you this house old, but it is as solid as it can be." Thelma interjected. "My mother's grandfather, Nicholas Dickens Nottingham built his log cabin on this spot nearly 150 years ago. And it eventually became a colonial surveyor's house with a lighthouse once my family established the Salmon fishing industry in this area. Even the lighthouse was incorporated into one of the turrets; the southernmost one I believe. The charm of this place has always been as an escape rather than an estate," she commented wistfully before taking a sip of her own brandy. "And you are right, Keziah, these sounds are just all new to you so you are more aware of them. It is like having a grandfather clock. At first the ticking and the chiming are maddening, then one day you have forgotten they exist at all!"

Thelma smiled, searching for support. "There is a logical explanation for everything you heard," she urged.

William noticed Samuel Wilmont was frowning instead of defending his sister or their home, so he spoke up instead. "Indeed, even light winds can infiltrate small openings much as an organ makes its notes, or can vibrate small gaps much as a reeded wind instrument produces sounds."

 _William cannot help himself, can he?_ Julia observed fondly. _Always coming to the aid of a lady…some things will never change._

Thelma flashed a brilliant smile of gratitude. "Exactly! Now, speaking of wind, it is a glorious day outside with perfect weather for sailing. Who is up for a race?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

"Care for a game of Snooker?" Josiah Atkinson approached William while he was investigating a small library on the opposite side of the house from where breakfast had been served. He thought this must be the original log cabin his hostess alluded to: a thick stone fireplace and low ceilinged chamber with a single south-facing window.

"William Murdoch is it? Josiah Atkinson, pleased to meet you."

William rose politely to shake the man's hand. "Pleasure to meet you."

Atkinson was a spare, wiry man with the slight stoop of an academic and glasses perched on his nose. "I'm not much of a seaman myself. Never learned to swim even though my old man loved the water."

"Ah. My own father was a sailor, and he passed on none of his skills to me, either. My wife, Julia, is a strong swimmer, however." William put the book aside. "Is it just us two left behind?"

Atkinson nodded. "Donald Harvey is somewhere around here, probably still scoping the place out. He has a fine pair of binoculars with the new German lenses so instead of walking he place he can just look out the window. Unlike your wife, Mr. Harvey is a failed medical man who turned out to be much more successful in real-estate. I understand he is being courted to purchase the place, so he wants to get to know it thoroughly. I saw Mrs. Fairweather at a writing desk in the hall working on her letters and Mrs. Murray going towards the greenhouse, but other than that they are all out on the lake." He pointed towards the window, where two triangles of white moved over the water's surface.

William recalled Julia's comments about Mr. Harvey and her explaining that Atkinson was a mathematics professor. "An exercise in geometry and Newton's Laws of Motion?" he offered.

Atkinson's thin lips smiled. "Indeed! There is a billiards room right above here, if you have a mind?"

William assented, hopeful for stimulating conversation. In no time, the two men were so deep in their game and the minutia of an academic argument that neither paid any attention to Philomena Murray when she swanned in.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Grabbing hold of a rail as a sudden gust of wind caught the sail and the boat bounced particularly hard against the wave, Julia laughed as Clinton Harrington swore – he'd been handling the mast.

The boat carrying Dorcas, Keziah, Grant, Bruce, Margaret, Daphne, and Robert did not seem to fare so well, and it almost capsized, drenching Daphne and nearly throwing her overboard. Fortunately, they managed to right the ship quickly.

"No wonder the house was so noisy last night if the wind is gusting like that," Thelma commented with a laugh. "Poor Daphne, if something is going to happen it always happens to her."

Wanting to support her friend as well as squash any nonsense about the house having been visited by supernatural beings, or guesses about a more earthly (and earthy) origin of the sounds, Julia nodded her agreement. "Absolutely," she concurred.

Thankfully, Clyde and Clinton Harrington along with Marcus Murray had gallantly offered to sail the boat allowing Julia, Thelma, Caroline, and Rose to enjoy the ride.

"It really has been far too long since I've gone sailing," Julia commented to Thelma as they knelt on the boat, enjoying the wind blowing through their hair. "I'd forgotten how much I enjoy it."

"Yes, it is one of the things I will miss most about this place." Thelma agreed.

"Julia, if I may, I meant to ask you about your necklace. Whatever is that odd pendant?" Rose pointed to the gold chain peeking out from Julia's jacket.

Julia put her fingers on her throat. Wearing this pendant gave Julia a sort of secret pride she could not explain. "It is from William," Julia defended. "It is an object that theoretically should not even exist: it has only one side and one edge, yet is three dimensional."

Thelma rolled her eyes and teased. "I can't tell if that is romantic or not," getting Rose to giggle right along.

"It is to remind me that nothing is impossible…" Julia added what she hoped was a 'cat who ate the canary' smile. She was _not_ going to mention it also symbolized their very vigorous and satisfying attempts at conception.

For some reason, that answer prompted Thelma to look over at her brother. Samuel Wilmont was also a passenger, but chose to sit apart from everyone else and stare at the lake in deep thought. It was clear that something was bothering him, and he was not at all his typical, relaxed, congenial self. Thelma shook her head with a sad smile, before regaining composure. Julia wondered what could possibly be going on, and made a mental note to find out more later.

Thelma quickly changed the topic of conversation by nudging Julia and motioning towards Clint Harrington and his proximity to Caroline Balfour.

"Should I seat them together tonight?" Thelma asked with a wink.

"I think you must," Julia concurred, laughing in conspiracy.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Philomena had to announce herself to make her presence known, the chagrin obvious in her voice. "Gentlemen. Is there already money changing hands as well?"

"I beg your pardon?" William paused with the cue drawn back and blinked. He realized Philomena Kinney Murray was standing uncomfortably close behind him and he had not noticed until she spoke.

"No, Mrs. Murray. Mr. Murdoch and I are having a friendly game." Atkinson explained. "As soon as he sinks this one we will have finished."

"Good to know," she answered, watching William put the last ball away.

Atkinson racked his cue and walked over to shake hands. "That was most satisfying, William! Perhaps another opportunity for a game and a discussion before the week-end is out?"

"I would like that very much, Josiah." William's sincerity was unmistakable. He'd enjoyed himself immensely for the last couple hours, finally finding a way to fit in to the house party more comfortably…by finding another outsider with an orderly mind.

He worked to re-rack the balls before leaving himself. "And you, Dr. Kinney. How has your morning gone?" he asked out of courtesy.

"It's Phil, please, or Philomena if you must. We cannot be so formal after having spent such an intimate hour or two together this morning— _philosophically_ speaking." She smiled disarmingly at William, and flicked a piece of hair behind her ear. "My morning has been grand. I love men who flaunt all the rules. Imagine, flitching from Cook before breakfast and billiards before noon. How modern; my grandmamma would have fainted…and often did considering how tight her corset was…" She picked up a ball from one of the corner pocket as if to hand it to William. "I am not so inclined to follow all the rules myself. For instance, making sure the proper ball goes in the proper pocket always seemed so boring to me."

William had no idea exactly what she was driving at, so made a polite noise which got her to roll the last ball to him. Since he had no rejoinder so he stuck to something harmless if banal. "I did not get the opportunity to thank you for getting us something to eat earlier. I was very hungry…"

When he looked up she was suddenly very close to him again. He had nowhere to go as the wall was behind him.

"Yes," she said as she cast her grey eyes down. "Going without can make a man – or woman, ravenous. We shall have to look out for each other, shall we not?"

With that she flounced off. William was vaguely disconcerted, but waved it off as par for the course amongst her intellectual, moneyed set. Julia thought highly of her friend Philomena and in fact the woman possessed a lively, curious mind, as he found out this morning.

He checked his timepiece: at twelve thirty, it was another four hours at least until tea. He did not expect the sailing to be over much before three by the time everyone was back on shore and inside, leaving him some time to explore the house and grounds. _I think I shall start outside, it is a lovely day after all. Perhaps there is a bicycle in the stables?_

One floor up, he collected his boots from their room. On the way back down to the front hall he heard a sob and sounds of a struggle. Instinctively, he raced towards the commotion. A maid was running clumsily down the back stairs, her apron and cap askew. In the other direction, William spied Donald Harvey, who sported a red-faced snarl and his clothing pulled apart, coming out of one of the rooms.

William wasted no time and did not think twice. He put on his best interrogation face and voice, the one that let a suspect know exactly what he really thought of them. "Mr. Harvey. I don't imagine the Wilmont's generosity extends to liberties with their staff. Pull yourself together, out of respect."

If anything Harvey's face got more scarlet. "That's rich, coming from an adulterer!" he spit at William before slamming the door shut behind him.

Heat flowed dangerously through William, instantly more enraged with Harvey's insult than he had even been with that man's predatory behavior, because the insult implied a stain on Julia's character from a creature clearly devoid of any shred of morals.

All of a sudden his pleasant mood evaporated as he checked to make sure no one else overheard the blistering exchange. Breathing out and deliberately unclenching his fists, it took half a minute to unstick himself from the floor and get his feet moving down the stairs and out onto the lawn. It was a full twenty minutes of walking through the property before his mind cleared for any coherent thought, and when it did two things fairly screamed at him for an answer:

One: _How many of the house guests are aware of his and Julia's history of notoriety?_ And two: _Was Donald Harvey the man who got Julia pregnant in medical school; the one she did not wish to marry?_

 _His mind swirled with the implications at that last thought and he stopped cold under its weight._


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Once the group came back from sailing, the entire party was enveloped in exuberant spirits Afternoon tea had been a whirl-wind. It occurred to William that he never had prolonged exposure in a social setting to a large group of women before, therefore he did not know if the endless chatter was typical; however it amazed him that the conversation could flow nonstop for hours.

Tea was followed by games of cards for the ladies and more rounds of billiards for the gentlemen. Donald Harvey and Sam Wilmont absented themselves, which was just fine as far as William was concerned, but it did raise his curiosity about their relationship.

 _I do not know if I'd be able to keep my composure around the man; how does Mr. Wilmont stand him?_

William fell into interesting conversations with Mr. Grant King about recent electrical inventions, Mr. Robert Fairweather about chemical solvents and even wandered over to where Miss Daphne Wilmont (not a fan of cards) was plunking some ragtime beats out on the piano.

William noticed, from an outsider's point of view and an investigator's sensibilities, that Julia seemed to fall into the habits and patterns of the past, as if twenty years had been peeled back and lifted away, leaving the college chums younger and brighter. It gave William an interesting window into what the non-academic aspects of college had been for his wife. Julia had not been the leader of the group: not the smartest, richest, funniest or prettiest. She _was_ the boldest. Love filled his heart.

 _I am not at all surprised._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Cocktails were at eight o'clock and dinner promptly at nine. William was not completely famished, but he was looking forward to the meal, being used to dining promptly at seven when he was not on a case. In their room, Julia asked William for help to finish dressing, having declined the services of a lady's maid. His fingers made quick work of the hooks for the back of her blue silk bodice, frowning at the bruises he found on her right shoulder and the one he saw on her hip.

"I did not know sailing was a contact sport. That looks like it will get worse before it gets better," William commented and he adjusted a piece of fabric and fastened her necklace on, pleased she had chosen to wear it.

"Oh. So now you are a forensic specialist in hematomas?" Julia shot back affectionately as she completed her toilette.

William merely smiled. He'd managed to give nothing away about his own occupation all day, just as he managed to avoid being asked to play Bridge. The hostesses and female guests in the house were obsessed with it, Julia among them, so he'd had scant ability to catch up with her day before now. William hemmed and hawed about telling Julia about Donald Harvey's behavior. He certainly was not about to confess about his interaction with Philomena because he did not know what to make of it. Julia was having a fine time, so he did not wish to disturb it.

In the relative privacy of their room before supper, Julia was able to share her own observations of the day and her friends.

"It's entirely possible that I'm being overly sensitive, but you should have heard the way some of the ladies spoke about their children – their own flesh and blood, William! Keziah and Rose spoke of them as they were burdens, and even Margaret spoke of the difficult time they were going to have in finding an eligible suitor for their youngest child who in her exact words "was far too plain and bookish for her own good," Julia fumed.

He was surprised. The men he spoke with seemed quite contented with their fatherhood; of course that may be because their wives did most of the work and worry. "I am certain that we will chart a different course for any children we have, and that we will share any joys or burdens that come with it." He wanted to get off the topic of children for more than one reason, concerned that Julia was the only one of her married cohort who was childless.

He took her in his arms for a kiss, which seemed to distract her nicely.

"Mmmm…lovely. I hope the house party is not too boring for you. Did you find some to talk with? I did not see Daphne after tea or Grant King," she asked when she surfaced from the kiss.

"I believe they were otherwise occupied." When Julia demanded more details, he reluctantly gave them. "I saw Miss Wilmont and Mr. King strolling in the garden with the dog. They, er… broke apart when I approached them." He coughed. "I cannot tell the Harrington twins apart, but one of them was helping Miss Balfour with her golf swing." He arched his eyebrows. "I'd say romance was in the air."

"Did you not know that, William? Yes, escapades of a carnal nature are often a popular pastime at a house party. If you were to set out your scrutiny camera, you would capture quite a few individuals traveling from one bedroom to another. To be perfectly honest, I wouldn't be surprised if more than one guest had taken a fancy to you. You don't have plans to go skulking about later, do you?" she joked.

His mouth got dry. Julia did not make it a question so he kept his peace.

"I never have understood why Caroline never married …she could have had her choice of men. She was engaged our final year, but did you know her fiancé suddenly disappeared? No one knows what happened to him. It really was quite strange." she shrugged. "However, she does seem quite interested in Clint Harrington."

"How does she tell them apart?" was William's sly question.

Julia made a face. "No idea. I always assumed that she just wanted to be single, so why the sudden change after all these years? I'm not sure. But Thelma has decided to seat them together at dinner tonight. Who knows? I know Daphne was quite sweet on Grant King back in the day, maybe she'll make her own move at dinner?"

"We shall have to discretely observe, perhaps share a whisper or two," he offered.

"Unfortunately, I don't think that we will be seated next to each other. Married couples rarely are, and I don't know with whom we will sit."

Seeing William's face, she frowned. "William, I don't know why that's the way that it is, it just is. You'd better save at least one dance for me, in fact perhaps we should be scandalous and dance with no one else but each other," she posited. "I do hope I will not sit anywhere near Donald Harvey – anyone else is acceptable." She noticed William stiffening. "What? Did you have a run in with him?"

He hesitated. These were old friends of hers and he wished to tread lightly, even if she already indicated Harvey was a boor. _I so want to ask her if Harvey had ever hurt her in the past._ He decided on a half-truth. "I caught him molesting one of the chambermaids. He was unhappy to have gotten my attention over it."

Julia paused for a moment, setting the earring down she'd been holding. "Had he forced himself on her? Had she been violated?" Julia asked, anger in her eyes.

"No, not so much as I could tell anyway. I saw her escaping and he was quite angry. I would hope that meant that he hadn't had time to uh, finish," William answered with a flourish of his hand.

"Let's hope so. Still, I will inform Thelma about this. Even if Samuel will allow nothing to happen to Donald, she'll at least make sure the poor girl is taken care of," she resignedly answered, picking her earring back up and putting them in.

Taking in a deep breath, she shook her head as to clear her thoughts and rose from the dressing table.

"Well, what do you think?" she asked, twirling around.

Here, she was free to be Mrs. Murdoch, a woman of means with a handsome husband, and differentiate herself from the admittedly dowdy girl she had been at school. Tonight, she needn't be mindful of her own professional position nor William's. Here, she could wear the latest and most fashionable designs from Paris-even if they were quite scandalous.

"It is exquisite." William pronounced…and it was. This dress was a turquoise silk gown trimmed with silver lace as well as silver embroidery along the bias and hem of the skirt. Not only was the dress sleeveless, it also featured a rounded, plunging neckline in the front and the back. She was displaying an uncharacteristic amount of skin, and William was conflicted about it. He had never seen her wear anything like it since she'd been married to Darcy.

" _You_ are exquisite, Julia," he added.

She took in a deep breath and smiled. She loved the way he looked at her, pride writ across his face.

"Well," Julia informed him, tying his tie and straightening his waistcoat with a suggestive glance. "I dare say, I will enjoy the attention I will get with such a fine specimen as you escorting me," Julia purred as she ran her hands up and down his chest. "Whomever does get to sit next to you best behave herself, or I shall have to take action," she commented, squeezing his biceps.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The hearth's bright fire added to a cheery atmosphere in the drawing room with twinkling candelabras and electrified chandelier, in direct contrast to the rain pelting down outside. Skidoo was curled on the hearth, making canine grunts of contentedness. Friday's calm and the afternoon's breezes has been erased by a weather-front from the northwest which had moved in an hour past sunset. This made the guests pronounce themselves ever more self-satisfied for having had the good fortune (and taste) to have enjoyed the out of doors earlier in the day.

William was happy to squire Julia down the stairs and into that room, wearing the jewel he commissioned for her, flashing at her throat. He nodded a greeting to Dorcas Harvey and Leonetta Fairweather, as his gaze swept the room. Oddly, Philomena and Marcus Murray were digging into the couch cushions with their hostess. William gave Julia a questioning glance.

"I am certain they are helping Thelma find her glasses," she whispered. "She is always losing them and is blind as a bat without them. Honestly, if she'd just wear eyeglass strings…"

The Atkinsons and Nottinghams were already engaged in lively conversation with each other and Caroline Balfour, while Mr. Fairweather, the Harringtons, Samuel Wilmont and Donald Harvey were obviously discussing business.

William's eye stuck on Harvey, trying to imagine what the man might have looked like when he was younger. _I wonder what any woman might have seen in him,_ he thought uncharitably.

"How _gauche_ ," Margaret Swift commented by shifting her head towards the knot of men as she joined William and Julia. Margaret had on a particularly flattering shade of dusky blue, Julia noticed.

"I imagine Donald ensnared the others who do not wish to be impolite," she continued.

"Sometimes I swear my work is all I ever have time _to_ talk about," Julia said under her breath, as Grant King and Daphne Wilmont came over.

Mr. King spoke up, having heard Julia's admission. "One is not permitted to discuss relationships, politics or religion either, in addition to money." He gave a sarcastic smile. "So of course almost nothing else is of any interest," he joked.

Daphne laughed prettily, smoothing the gown in deep violet silk, paired with a green shawl which she wore to cover bare shoulders. Matching violet silk shoes peeked out from under the hem. "Mixing business with pleasure has never been appropriate in polite society."

"Which is why gentlemen have all their clubs and secret societies in which to conduct it, to the exclusion of women!" Thelma brought herself up to stand next to her sister. She wore a gown in blazing sunset hues which flattered her colouring and a small coronet in her hair.

Julia lifted her glass. "Here, here!" She surreptitiously elbowed William who raised his glass of cider.

Margaret and Julia giggled while Grant laughed out loud. Leonetta and Dorcas rose to investigate what was so funny. "Honestly they are too serious over there," Margaret griped. "Join us, please. I see you have a Gin Fizz, Dorcas. Looks yummy.

"But if Mr. King is correct that those topics are off limits, I suppose that the only topic left to us is whether or not Mrs. Keppel is still the King's favorite mistress," Julia insouciantly said while quaffing her champagne. A servant quickly came to refill it.

"How now, Mrs. Murdoch," Grant King admonished with a laugh. "Of course you must tell me what you know," he asked.

William had heard similar conversations amongst groups of men and from the Inspector, but he'd never thought he'd hear it from a mixed-group of polite company.

A huge gust of wind rattled the windows, moving the curtains in a slow swell, then lightening cracked, lighting up the sky followed by a deep rumble of thunder. Leonetta jumped. "Thank goodness we are inside," her cheeks flaring in embarrassment. "I do hope it dies down before we retire for the evening. I could not stand one more night of that ghastly noise."

"You mean ghostly, do you not?" Dorcas asked.

William could not tell if she was teasing or not.

Apparently Dorcas was serious. "This place comes with its own graveyard."

Leonetta looked over her shoulder as if someone touched her. "No!"

"That is not unusual on an old family property," Thelma said reasonably.

"Yes, very true." William interjected. "I saw it on my walk today. Quiet, peaceful and lovely. Hardly sinister."

Undeterred, Dorcas insisted on the topic. "Donald tells me he is convinced the house is haunted or cursed. I understand many people have died here over the years. He even says there was a murder ten years ago. In November." She dropped her voice dramatically. _"The Lakeside Lasher."_

Julia saw Thelma's frown and Daphne's eyes get bigger. _Oh, oh…trouble._

"A man was found with his throat torn out…after a full moon." Dorcas' words sent Leonetta to shrinking even more. "Is there nowhere safe?"

"That was not out here," Grant King defended, then realized he should not have mentioned that either. He sighed when Margaret prompted him. "I am sorry Dorcas, but your husband is sometimes a little loose with his facts. The victim ten years ago was an attorney in Newcastle who originally started my law firm. He was obviously killed by a wild animal that wandered in from the forest. Wolf or bear perhaps."

Leonetta whispered, "How dreadful."

"There is nothing to worry about." Thelma assured her. "Sometimes a wolf is spotted too close to a farm. We also do get the occasional male black bear in the spring or coming down to the salmon runs, but it is currently the wrong season for that."

"Are you absolutely _sure_ there is nothing to those 'Lakeside Lasher' legends?" Leonetta was practically begging to be told 'no.'

"I am _quite_ certain." He gave a derisive laugh. "People who ignore the facts can make up any manner of foolishness, especially for consumption by the gullible. For example, later on we heard a fantastic story that some policeman, in Toronto of all places, believed it to have been a revenge killing committed by a man pretending to be a wolf. This from someone who never came here, never saw the body. How absurd!"

William and Julia looked at each other, recalling that case and the truth of it. "Actually…"

A sweet-sounding bell chimed, then Thelma interrupted to announce supper. "Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed to the dining room and take your places!

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

 _Of all people!_ Julia would have stamped her foot if it would not have made her look weak and ridiculous. With a glance at Thelma who shook her head apologetically, Julia tried her best not scowl at the thought of sitting next to Donald Harvey. _Oh well, someone has to do it. At least I will stand up to him!_ She saw that Daphne was sitting on this right, and they rolled their eyes at each other in solidarity.

If it hadn't been Thelma who had placed her, it must have been Samuel who had sat the two together. Her opinion of guilt was further reinforced when Samuel refused to look at her. At least Bruce Nottingham was seated on her left, giving her a pleasant dinner companion. William was seated between Philomena and Keziah Atkinson, seeming to be holding his own by mostly listening to Samuel and the Harringtons try to correct Donald on his pompous yet erroneous pronouncements on a variety of topics. Julia was reminded of a scatological observation about opinions being like a certain body part….

Initially, she'd been so happy to be scandalous and not her usual, guarded self, but now, she regretted her choice of dress. She felt far too exposed as she caught Harvey leering at her half way through the soup course. He started a rambling discourse on social relations between men and women, and their proper spheres of influence. "Women are disruptive in the workplace. Women cannot possibly be as effective on the job and the male workers get distracted from their labours into liaisons…"

"You assume all men are the same I suppose, and all women for that matter. I happen to know some women would object…but then again, you would know all about that, wouldn't you?" Julia quipped acidly, immediately regretful for Dorcas' sake.

Donald had no such compunctions. "A man of my wealth and position can have any woman I want, and women let me…"

Julia saw the shocked silence of conversation and utensils momentarily caught Donald left-footed. She could see the struggle within him: loving being center of attention versus his needing to control the image he presents.

Donald took in a calming breath, before launching his counter attack. "I must say that I'm surprised your husband allowed you to wear such a dress this evening, Mrs. Murdoch. Or does he not care about the attentions you attract from other men?" his voice oozed sarcasm.

"Or perhaps I chose to wear what I wanted, and my husband doesn't get to have approval over what I choose," Julia retorted.

"If I were your husband, you would not have that say. All authority would rest with me, and such an outfit implies that you are advertising your openness to partake in immoral activities later this evening," the man guffawed.

William was uncomfortable to be overhearing the topic of conversation, unsure if he should intervene in some way… _Or challenge Donald to a duel._ He smirked to himself. _Julia would kill me…_ Harvey's wife, Dorcas, was sitting across from William and could not possibly have missed hearing this, as her husband's comment was rather loud. However the woman was immune to such topics or had long ago chosen oblivion, as she seemingly paid the conversation no mind.

To his left, Philomena made a tsk tsk noise. "I find possessiveness to be a measure of insecurity," she commented in a low voice only for his hearing. "As if your wife, or his, were a commodity."

William nodded to her, as he tended to agree. He felt sorry for Dorcas Harvey who was quietly applying herself to her soup with eyes fixed on the bowl. William tried to do the same. Unfortunately, Philomena followed up her commentary with a hand on his left leg. He froze up, shocked at her behavior, before repositioning his napkin to brush her away. He made eye-contact with her, but she only grinned and shrugged as if it was accidental.

Julia for her part found she could not help herself. Donald Harvey was an all-around cad. "Well, most luckily for me that you are not my husband, Mr. Harvey. Besides, I believe that you are the least appropriate person here to lecture me on morality," she countered.

When the entire table laughed at her quick riposte, Donald Harvey chose to say nothing more, and Julia followed his lead. Manners be damned; she was more than happy to ignore the boor, even though she knew he was at this very moment plotting his revenge on her. Instead she focused on chatting with Bruce, her third course of _salmon en croute_ and her glass of Sauvignon while reassuring William's concern with a shake of her head and a smile.

Her smile grew wider when she saw the look of hatred that William briefly shot in Harvey's direction. She'd wondered about his the oddly restrained look on his face before.

The one-story dining room, while large, was obviously another add-on to the main house. William thought it might have originally been part of a wide veranda which was later modified and enclosed. The sounds of the storm built with each dish appearing from the kitchen and in no time the house itself was protesting with shrieks and howls from the battering of wind and rain it was receiving. During the dessert course of peach crisp with hard sauce, the rain poured down so fiercely on the roof, the lights flickered and dimmed with the deluge making conversation a strain.

Then with a huge "BOOM" the electric lights cut out. The only illumination came from lightning strikes, throwing watery shadows throughout the room.

From her right, Julia heard a scream, and she guessed that it had to be the ever high-strung Leonetta, overacting as she typically did. " _Woo-woo-woo_ " was Skidoo's commentary from the other room.

"It's all right everyone, just give us a moment. We'll have this taken care of in no time," Thelma reassured her guests as servants rushed past, hurrying to light the gas lamps along one wall and place candles on the table.

Just then, Julia felt a hand brush the side of her breast and trace her neckline, his fingers settling and plunging between her breasts.

She didn't need to think twice about to whom the hand might belong, and with little thought, she stabbed his hand with her fork. She was rewarded by a shriek that was not related to the storm outside.

 _I may have had to endure his attentions and advances in University, but I'll be damned if I do so again._

Within moments, the lamps were lit, and Donald Harvey was seen wrapping his hand in a linen napkin, glowering at Julia.

"Mr. Harvey, my goodness. Was that _you_? Pardon me. How _ever_ did your hand get so close to my plate?" she intoned, and was rewarded with a snicker from both Daphne and Caroline.

She wasn't sorry…quite the contrary, she was quite pleased with herself. The snickers and knowing smiles around the table told her that everyone knew what he had been doing, and that she wasn't in the least bit embarrassed. She focused on William, who wore a mixture of both pride and anger upon his face.

Julia basked in his pride; she knew the fury was for Donald Harvey.

"Do you suppose the lights will come back on?" two men asked at about the same time.

William offered his own speculation. "I doubt it. Either the generator was hit or a tree came down on the transmission lines. No one will be able to repair either until morning and the derecho stops." Several of the sailors in the room nodded, having a similar understanding of the kind of storm they were experiencing.

Samuel, as host, tried to get the conversation flowing again, with speculation about the upcoming April Intercalated Games in Athens, Greece. Although more appropriate for after dinner, the men at the table pounced on a safe topic, with Bruce Atkinson detailing his witnessing the Hamilton road race which featured Billy Sherring. "He's Canada's hope for the marathon this spring," Bruce was enthusiastic which started a gentleman's argument about choosing Mr. Sherring over other club members. Since Canada was not sending cyclists, William had little to contribute.

The downpour outside did nothing to mask Daphne's dramatic sigh cutting across the table. "Without the power on there will not be any music. Now we shall not be able to have our dance!" she lamented to Grant King at her elbow.

Thelma agreed with her sister. "Yes, I am sorry ladies, I suppose we can try charades after coffee," she suggested.

William was a little disappointed; Daphne had promised a variety of recordings for a new electric Victrola player, including the syncopated ragtime music he was hoping to share with Julia. He was horrified of charades, sending his wife what he hoped were signals to beg excuses for getting out of it.

William saw Daphne continued to pout while pushing her peaches around. Grant appeared to lean over to comfort her, then excused himself.

William waited patiently for the hostess to declare the end of the meal so he could excuse himself and persuade Julia to go to their room. The table was cleared down to the wood, then coffee, nuts and chocolates were set around. Unfortunately the conversation became stilted, centering again on the storm.

Julia saw their hostess getting desperate and was about to try and rescue the situation when Grant King reappeared, slightly waterlogged, with a devilish grin on his face. "Samuel, Thelma, if I may?" he announced as much as asked. "I have arranged a Gypsy séance for us in the drawing room. What is more perfect than that on a dark and stormy night?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

It took a fair amount of nudging, but the guests trooped from the dining room to the drawing room to sit at a hastily arranged scene. Mr. Shaggis, tall and thin, was bent double trying to pull the dog out from under a table where the animal had taken up cowering. The gardener craned his long neck to make eye contact. "Come, Skidoo. We'll get us some dinner." William saw how torn the beast was: food versus safety.

Food won, allowing the pair of them to find the kitchen.

At a round table for eight, a dark-haired woman, swathed in bright silk scarves sat calmly with the center of the table jammed with blazing candles. Her eyes were clouded. There were two concentric circles of chairs – one pulled up to the table and twelve in a second outer band. Donald and Samuel sat next to each other; Margaret, Julia, Bruce, Daphne, Caroline and Marcus were selected to sit at the table as well, with everyone else seated behind. The storm's crashing noise was lessened in this room, even though the curtains still undulated with the wind gusts.

"Where did you get _her_?" Clyde Harrington threw to Grant as everyone was settling in. Several other guests leaned in to hear the answer.

"She is the sister of the Wilmont's stableman, Baylis," Grant answered. "We scraped an acquaintance when I went for a ride early this morning."

William looked closely at the woman and motioned to his own eyes. Grant caught the gesture. "Yes, she is quite blind, but she has the Gypsy 'sight'!"

Julia was perplexed to see that William was going along with this entertainment. He was seated between Leonetta and Clyde, directly behind her, so she leaned back to point this out.

"I can't believe that William Murdoch is agreeing – happily no less – to a séance. What's next? Are you going to allow her to read your cards?" she asked with a laugh.

"I have no objection to entertainment, Julia," he whispered. "This is not the first séance I have attended."

This shocked her. "William Murdoch at a séance?!

"Yes. With Miss Pensall. After this is over I may tell you about it."

"I certainly hope that it wasn't a private séance, William," Julia warned. "What else have you neglected to tell me, dear husband?" she asked as she pulled him in for a kiss in full view of the others.

He momentarily resisted then merely lifted a corner of his mouth at her public display of affection.

"Julia…" William cocked an eyebrow as she playfully hit his chest.

 _Propriety be damned. Besides, what better way to let Donald and anyone else know that I'm not interested in any late night visits._

The Gypsy woman tapped her fingers on the table to silence the group. Gathering her composure with several deep breaths, she began: "There is anger here. And fear." Her voice was clear and bell-like, belonging to a much younger woman. "Please, hold hands and be quiet. I will attempt to bring messages to you from the un-restful spirits which walk tonight."

"Beware false prophets," Donald Harvey quipped to the room.

A certain amount of tittering was quickly suppressed. The woman began by closing the lids over her opalescent eyes and after a moment she began to sway slightly. "The past and the present are parted by a heartbeat. The present and the future are only separated by a breath."

Another titter erupted, followed by shushing.

Ignoring it all, the woman was very still. Her eyes never opened turning first in Marcus' direction.

"I have a message from your father. I want to say that he is proud of you; he called you "little custard" when you were just a boy and it made you so mad…." She paused and smiled slightly. "You have learned not to take your dignity so seriously." Another pause. "He is not sure if that is for the best."

Then nothing. Marcus's eyes were wide open and he nodded silently.

She swiveled her blind face towards Julia's direction next. "You will reveal your true self tonight."

Leonetta made a small mewling sound behind her. Julia had no idea what to make of that or the Gypsy's pronouncement, so she commented: "Perhaps I already have," half aloud and half under her breath. The room tittered again until a glare from Grant King silenced them all.

To Caroline's direction she said: "A young man is with you, always." Caroline gasped, nearly dropping her hands from the circle when a new roll of thunder boomed. "But your wishes will not come true."

Samuel shifted in his seat as the Gypsy turned her head his way. "Three can keep a secret, if two are dead." Donald Harvey grunted at her words, but the snort from Samuel was loud and angry. He pushed away from the table, muttering about making sure the servants were locking up properly.

Rose took his place excitedly, and so it went for about a half an hour of odd or vague pronouncements, including a person finding out too late they have been cursed by their own actions.

The entertainment broke up, releasing the guests to their own devices. A few lingered by the fire, perhaps to fend off a long, cold, dark trek upstairs to the bedrooms to listen to the storm which continued unabated. The staff laid out oil lamps for the journey but it was eerie none-the-less.

Julia was trying a bit of humour to lighten the mood when they heard a blood-freezing scream. "Daphne? That's Daphne!" Julia recognized her voice. "William, where is that coming from?"

William grabbed an oil lamp and went directly down the hall to the music room, following the high-pitched wailing emanating from there, with several other guests following in his wake. On the floor of the music room was Leonetta Fairweather, and standing over her was Daphne, her bright red hair coming out of its pins and part of her violet skirts drawn up in one fist and held to her mouth, the other hand pointing to the floor.

"She's dead! Leonetta is dead! _It's the Lakeside Lasher!_ "


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Julia pushed Daphne aside into her brother Samuel's slack arms and immediately sought out Leonetta's pulse. It was there, but quite elevated, as though something had frightened her into her current state. Red wine was spilled on her chest. She checked to be sure there were no injuries, no blow to the head other than from connecting with the floor when she fell.

 _Nothing obvious._ She looked again at the poor unconscious woman. _It wouldn't surprise me if it weren't her own shadow that frightened her,_ Julia churlishly thought.

"What have you, doctor?" William knelt by his wife, falling easily into well-worn habits.

"She's fine. That is wine on her gown. Just fainted is all," Julia reassured everyone. "Can someone fetch me some smelling salts?"

"Of course," Thelma replied and hurried out.

William assumed a natural control of the room, herding the onlookers to one side to let them whisper and chatter to each other out of the way. He saw that Daphne was still shaking and Samuel just stared at Leonetta's figure on the floor, so William collected Daphne and steered her to a chair. He was sympathetic to the idea the woman might have been startled and upset, initially believing her friend was dead when she came upon a still figure lying on the floor.

William considered Leonetta. _But what could have frightened a woman enough to cause her to pass out?_

He surveyed the room for anything out of the ordinary. It was hard to see much in the dark gloom of the room even with several oil lamps glowing. A grand piano graced one corner of the room, French doors sat along the outside wall, and the far wall contained a built-in bookcase bracketed by two tall mirrors positioned to reflect and amplify light. Nothing appeared to be amiss. Unlike Samuel's behavior which seemed odd; the man looked like he was beside himself.

"Mr. Wilmont?" William tried to get the man's attention.

"Was anything else moved? Did you find anything with her? Move anything to get to her?" Samuel asked Julia, ignoring William.

"No, everything is as you see here," Julia replied.

Perhaps he was just being protective of his younger sister, but Samuel Wilmont was most upset and showed far more emotion than one would expect. Clyde Harrington made a darkly humorous quip which sent his companions into nervous laughter; that seemed to galvanize Samuel.

"It's not a joke anymore," Samuel bellowed. "It's not funny, stop it at once," he yelled to everyone and no one in particular.

Thelma came back in the middle of that with the smelling salts and handed them to Julia, who waved a pinch of the granules under Leonetta's nose. The woman came up abruptly, sputtering and coughing. Thelma helped Julia and William get Leonetta off the floor and onto a small couch.

That done, Thelma immediately confronted her brother's outburst. "Samuel, you are not helping! What is going on?"

Shaking his head at his sister, Samuel only looked embarrassed. "N…Nothing," he replied, eyes stuck on the floor where Leonetta had been, a red wine stain ruining a fine Turkish carpet. "I must humbly apologize. My worry over Daphne and the shock of seeing Leonetta got the best of me," he mumbled.

William had interviewed hundreds of witnesses and suspects over the years; he knew that Samuel was lying. What he did not know was: _Why?_

There were indistinguishable murmurs of "don't worry about it," and "perfectly understandable," from the others. Samuel collapsed next to Leonetta, who was now turning a handkerchief over and over in her hands.

In the meantime, Keziah Atkinson asked where Robert Fairweather was, and Philomena Murray cheekily replied by asking if all the servants had been accounted for.

Julia walked over to assess Leonetta. _She still looks affright, but her eyes are equal and reactive, her pulse is a more normal rate._ Julia did not think there was any danger. "Leonetta, how do you feel?"

Leonetta began to cry and shake. "That Gypsy woman! She cursed me! _I saw…_ _it_ _!_ "

The group erupted in gasps, groans and a derisive laugh. "Ladies and gentlemen," Julia stood and said briskly. "I will take care of Leonetta. Now please move off and give us some room." Hands bunched at her waist, she stared until the group took their lamps and disbursed.

Julia then turned to her hostess to ask, "Thelma, will you and Grant get Daphne upstairs? I will bring a tonic up to her shortly." She looked at her husband, rolling her eyes over the room to encompass Leonetta and Samuel as well. "Do you suppose you can get to the bottom of this?" she whispered.

When William nodded, she left to rummage in her luggage for a soporific for Daphne and to wait impatiently for whatever William was going to discover.

 _I know that look on his face…he can ferret out a lie better than anyone I know. There is definitely something going on._

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Mrs. Fairweather," William offered another handkerchief, "this has been quite an ordeal for you. We will get you to your room in a moment." He brought up a chair to sit closely, but not crowd the woman. "If I may, what did you _see_ …exactly?" She looked up at him reluctantly. "Please start from when you came into this room."

Leonetta sniffed. "It was horrid I tell you. That woman cursed me! What was she doing here amongst respectable people?"

William knew a deflection when he heard one. "Mrs. Fairweather. You came here into the music room after supper with one of the oil lamps. You told us you saw something. What was it exactly?"

Leonetta's mouth worked and she swallowed. She pointed to the right of where the piano stood, to the far wall with the mirrors and the book cases. "I came in to see if perhaps we could have piano or singing for after-dinner entertainment. Daphne was going to help me choose. I came over to the bookcase to look for sheet music. I had my wine in one hand and a light in the other…" Her voice broke when she whispered: "Right there! I saw a monster I tell you. One moment I saw my own reflection in that mirror and then my reflection dissolved into a grotesque figure." Leonetta started gasping for breath, reaching out to clutch William's sleeve. "You heard her," she insisted, "that Gypsy looked right at me with those blind eyes and said my true self would be revealed. And I saw it! A hag. A deathly hag…I think it means death…" Leonetta's sobbing prevented her from going on.

Out of the corner of his own eye, he saw that Samuel Wilmont did not budge; he was hanging on every word of Leonetta's tale.

"Was anyone here when you entered the room? Did anyone touch you? Or speak to you?" William inquired.

"No. No…Please, Mr. Murdoch. I just want to go to my room and change clothes. My poor frock…" She said weakly, patting at the stains on her dress then wringing her hands again, and blinking, the world coming back into focus a bit. She wiped her eyes. "Where is Robert?

"Mr. Wilmont…Samuel? Will you please go find Mr. Fairweather and tell him his wife has had an episode? She will be in their room shortly." William hoped to push Samuel out of his mood by making a demand on him towards action.

William saw Samuel's conflict clearly on his face. Reluctantly, the man nodded and left to search out Leonetta's husband. He had one question for the woman he wanted to ask in private. "Mrs. Fairweather. Why would someone wish to particularly frighten you?"

William watched as Leonetta became so still it stole her breath. Her voice was small when she answered. "No _person_ was trying to scare me, Mr. Murdoch. Now I'd like to join my husband."

William did not think he'd get any more from Leonetta tonight. "Thank you," he said simply.

After having settled Daphne into bed, Julia and Thelma returned downstairs as William was wrapping up questioning Leonetta about what she'd seen.

Reminding herself to be gracious, Julia offered to give Leonetta a sleeping draught as well, but she declined; in fact she declined all assistance and saw herself out.

"Nothing too serious, is there Mr. Murdoch?" Thelma asked as soon as Leonetta had left. "I'm sure it's just Leonetta's weak constitution. She's always been quite the scaredy-cat…do you remember the time she fainted when she had dissect a frog?" Thelma asked Julia.

"Remember? How could I forget? I still can't believe that her family ever harbored ambitions for her to become a physician. What did she think was going to happen?" Julia laughed nervously.

Rolling her eyes in acknowledgement, Thelma went on. "She never had a strong stomach. Between us, I never thought she was going to finish McGill let alone go on to study medicine," she explained. "She'd wanted to marry her sweetheart after secondary school but her father forbade it. She never stood up to him."

Julia shook her head and sniffed. "As for tonight, perhaps combined with being predisposed to fear from the house noises last night, she had a little too much wine with dinner to calm her nerves and it lead to flights of fancy. What do you think, William?" Julia asked. "Is there anything going on here, or just Leonetta's overactive imagination once again?"

William was disturbed by her comment as he prowled the room. "I observed Mrs. Fairchild drank only water or cider at dinner, as did I. She only took a glass of wine after the séance. Considering how much was spilled, I doubt she drank much. Furthermore she seemed genuinely frightened by what she thought she saw." He held his oil lamp up, seeing nothing but his own reflection in the windows behind the curtains. _The floor and carpet are dry. No one came in this way._

"I certainly don't think there's any paranormal activity. There are no curses, certainly no 'Lakeside Lasher'." William pronounced flatly as he finished looking around. _Human activity was far more likely, but had anything criminal actually been done?_ He decided not. "I don't see how the Gypsy woman could have caused any of this. She was still with us when we heard Daphne scream.

"No doubt one or more of the boys having some fun and trying to scare us as they used to back in the day," Thelma supplied. "I don't think it's anything to be concerned about," she concluded, "so let us not ruin a nice week-end." She chuckled. "The weather is doing a fine job of that all on its own!"

"Mrs. White, with your permission. I'd like to look into this more carefully," William asked.

Thelma paused, as if this never occurred to her. "Later, perhaps?"

"Indeed," Julia sighed. "I'd like to retire myself."

As he escorted Julia upstairs, happy to escape the drama for the evening, William wondered why everyone seemed so eager to retire for the night. _Not everyone could be as socially inept as I am, surely…_

"I really do wonder what could have frightened poor Leonetta so. Even if it were imagined, it seemed real enough to her, I reckon," Julia continued as she took off her jewelry once they were back in the safety of their room. "I am glad to be here with you. The weather, the séance, Leonetta's swooning is grating on my nerves."

William was still bothered by Samuel's demeanor and Leonetta's answers. He asked about Mr. Fairweather's whereabouts, concerned about imposing additional distress on the woman. "Did Samuel locate him?"

"Oh, don't worry, he wasn't carrying on in their room, he's using one of the spare bedrooms," Julia told him with a small shrug to his shocked look. "Oh, Leonetta might be prone to the vapors but she is not naive. She is merely tedious."

William knew it was unlike Julia to be petty, so he assumed there would be a story involved. "I see. It seems that many of you don't seem to harbor the greatest affection for her, why is that?" William's curiosity overtook him.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with her, I guess. It's just that while perhaps her family had the most money, marriage prospects for her still weren't the greatest. She always meant to please others, and tried her best, but she wasn't the brightest or most capable girl. I don't even think she particularly wanted to attend university; she did it because her father wanted her to, and hardships were all the more cruel for her because she didn't particularly want it. She initially studied biology at her mother's behest if you can believe it! It was quickly decided that she didn't have the aptitude for it, and she switched to languages instead," Julia explained, turning her back to him as a silent request to help her undress.

"But if you were such serious students and she was not, why have her as one of your group?" he wondered aloud as he helped her disrobe.

Stepping out of the gown, Julia shrugged as she bent over to pick it up and laid it across an upholstered chair. "Because we were it, William. We were the only women there, she was one of us simply by being one of the few. The pioneer women ahead of us blazed the trail and had their hands full. Leonetta went through the hardships with us, and therefore we see her as one of us, even if we didn't always get along or see eye to eye."

"Is that all?"

"She is the only one of us who did nothing with her degree. She married Robert Fairweather, handpicked for her by her father and 'retired'. I suppose we judge her for all of that."

William's curiosity swung towards the male friends she made at school. "Samuel became part of the cohort because of his sister I assume. And the other gentlemen?" He paused, cautious about this next part. "Donald Harvey….?"

Julia stiffened. "William, please. Let's not discuss him. He was a horrid man who was in our circle but not my friend. We women individually and collectively put him on notice we were not open to his advances and not to cross the line…"

"Or else you would have stabbed him with a fork, yes?" he laughed, kissing her hands.

"Yes, amongst many other things," she said, turning away.

William thought Julia laughed a little too brightly, and wondered once again if she was hiding something from him. _Perhaps Donald Harvey also attended Bishops…? Perhaps Julia's bitterness has something to do with having more than a passing acquaintance with Mr. Harvey…?_

Julia saw his face frown. "Oh William! I was so happy to see the pride on your face when I did that this evening," she giggled.

"I was quite proud! How dare he try to assume such liberties with _my_ wife, and shame on him for thinking that you would tolerate such things!"

"I must admit, I think I would enjoy seeing you punch him," Julia smiled, untying his bowtie and throwing it across the room.

"I restrained myself solely because I didn't want to embarrass you." William's smile faded. "I still find it had to imagine Leonetta not feeling humiliated by her husband's behavior…well his _presumed_ behavior."

"No. Scandalous liaisons are a common feature of a house party. They've hurried up to bed or made other alternate plans so that they can meet up with their intended."

"You seem to know a great deal about these affairs." William said before realize the inadvertent _double entendre_. He blushed. "I assume you and Darcy must have attended house parties such as these."

Julia grinned slyly. "Why yes. But the only person I ever wished to conduct an affair with, was with you. Did I not propose just such a thing?" She sent him a look. "The real question is who is meeting up with whom? I just hope that some poor servant girl isn't being forced into something she doesn't want. I have informed Thelma who promised me that she would make sure that only male servants would be available for the rest of the night," Julia stated.

William picked up his tie and smoothed it out. "Inspector Brackenreid tried to warn me about illicit, er… pursuits at country house parties. Julia…." William asked as he doffed his jacket, "You and I grew up differently I suppose, but I must admit I am uncomfortable with the whole notion of liaisons so openly conducted. I take love and marriage very seriously and prefer _some_ discretion and privacy."

Julia heard the emphasis and smiled at her collection of memories where she had challenged William's sense of propriety. "Not everyone enjoys what we have. Many of my friends didn't necessarily marry for love, William. For some, marriage is a business arrangement of sorts. Once a child or two is produced, it's not uncommon for many to find companionship elsewhere, so long as it's discreet. This weekend is such an opportunity, I suppose," she replied, loosening her hair and brushing it out. "I am sure it is not the first time Leonetta or Dorcas has turned a blind eye."

William recalled Donald Harvey's earlier name calling incident and cringed internally. _Pot calling a kettle black._ "It's still adultery, which leads to jealousy amongst other things, and you know as well as I what that is capable of producing. I am cognizant that conducting an affair usually requires discretion so as not to humiliate one's spouse or one's self. To conduct one so blatantly, such as what appears to be happening this week-end, is monstrous," he replied as he hung his clothes on his valet. "I am glad I don't have a marriage like that. Will we be the only couple not engaging in these escapades?" he winced slightly at the need for such speculation.

"Oh, I doubt it." Julia tossed off lightly. "I doubt Caroline or Daphne would be so bold. A married woman is an acceptable lover as she is protected and experienced, but only a true cad would attempt to seduce an unmarried woman…But if either Caroline or Daphne ….well, it's possible, I suppose. Neither is particularly young, although they are both still quite beautiful. So maybe it is possible…" Julia rambled as her chemise slipped to the floor and she stood naked in front of William, noting how his eyes darkened with passion.

William's questions about Leonetta and Samuel barely registered in his consciousness, as his total awareness was centered on Julia and his rising desire for her. "Will we be needing our nightclothes tonight, Mrs. Murdoch?" William's voice dropped suggestively.

"I believe we have a rigorous schedule to maintain, Mr. Murdoch, provided you're not unable to perform your duties," she giggled.

"And what if I said I wasn't? Would you find another suitor down the hall?" he teased.

Shaking her head with a smile, Julia demurred. "No, Mr. Murdoch. This is not that kind of marriage and no such escapades are necessary," she reassured him as she pulled his undershirt over his head and ran her hands up and down his chest looking at him for permission to continue.

He locked his lips on hers, letting his hands caress her skin as her hands located the remainder of his underwear to push them off his hips. "We'd best get to it, the night is wasting," he said as he picked her up, stepped out of his drawers and carried her over to the bed.

As Julia landed on the covers, she giggled. "I am relieved that I won't have to seek the services of another man tonight," she teased in between kisses.

"Hmm, then I'm relieved to tell you that I will be exercising my husbandly right to bar you from leaving the room," he breathlessly whispered, "at least not until I am finished with you."

"And I with you." Her lusty laugh was swallowed by a fervent kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

By morning the storm subsided to a foggy, desultory drizzle, in contrast to William who was awake early feeling clear-headed and vigorous. Julia's fertility treatments had many effects as well as side effects he had discovered, including moodiness. _It also seems to increase her desire_ , he thought about their relations last night. Keeping up with her was going to be a pleasurable challenge.

Up and dressed quietly, he left her to sleep and closed their door behind him, immediately proceeding to trip over a tray which had been placed by the threshold. The clattering was loud in the otherwise silent hallway. He looked around guiltily; thankful no one paid the noise any mind. William picked the tray up & peered underneath the silver dome. _A plate of bread and jam!_ His mouth watered and his stomach acclaimed loudly.

 _How thoughtful._ William assumed the kitchen staff provided it, prompted by Thelma White. There was a slip of paper under the bread which only bore the inscription "By 7:00". William assumed that was to indicate the time by which to deliver the snack. _They are early, it is only 6:10._ William packaged it up in his pocket and set off to explore the house. No one else was about. He walked the hallway, looking carefully at the doors, hardware, vents and end windows.

His first stop was the main hall. Outside the front door was evidence of the storm's fury: leaves and branches strewn about, large branches down and trees uprooted. He saw one of the home's shutters broken and twisted besides a stack of torn tree limbs and the property looked like a giant swung through with a club. The causeway was blocked by trees. Back inside, from the drawing room windows he could see the lake had lashed the shoreline, consuming feet, if not yards of ground, and the lake levels themselves were high. The windstorm would have pushed massive amounts of water towards the other side of Lake Ontario, and now the water was sloshing back in a seiche. He retraced his steps into the dining room, carefully examining the spaces, looking for anything which might explain the unsettling phenomena which the guests were experiencing. He catalogued several observations and guesses, stopping his systematic reconnoiter only long enough to finish his bread.

The music room looked much different in natural light: pleasantly proportioned but, he noticed, oddly placed in the house. Light came in through the French doors; the twin mirrors sat in large, gilt frames giving more depth to the room. On a hunch, he addressed the bookcase, pulling or shifting books, pressing on the millwork, trying to get the shelving to open or slide. _Ah well, it worked once before_ , he sighed under his breath.

The only anomaly in this room he noticed was when the curtains puffed…without any corresponding wind outside. He lit the wick of a candle, blew it out and watched the smoke trail.

 _What is that?_

There was some gap around the right-hand mirror into which the wisps disappeared. William ran his fingers along the gilt frame, feeling for air or a way to peel it back from the wall _._

 _There?_

He pulled back on a latch placed high in the frame, causing the whole mirror, frame and all, to swing out, revealing a long dark corridor running behind it. What was even more surprising was that when he turned around he could see _through_ the glass back into the music room.

The space smelled of earth and dampness. William followed his nose down the corridor as the scent strengthened, his footsteps ending at a glass door. Beyond that was the remains of a greenhouse. The storm, at least he assumed it was the storm, shattered most of the windows by flinging branches, or perhaps the sheer force of the winds themselves caved the panes in. Sounds of a broom across the floor took his attention.

"Hello?" William stepped around the glass.

The scraping stopped. "Hullo?" Mr. Shaggis' voice called out. "How d'you get in here?" He sounded annoyed. "Best be careful there, stay back. I'll have the mess on the floor swept up soon. Don't know about the orange trees though," he mentioned sadly. The gardener approached, broom handle waving. Dusty blonde hair strayed outside a tweed cap and whiskers strayed on his chin, as if the man had not bothered to clean up before tackling such a dirty task. "Ah. Mr. Murdoch is it? I'm, er…surprised sir. None of the gentlemen is up so early. Why it's not even seven o'clock."

William saw the man's craggy face look puzzled.

"If you're up so early, would you care for some tea, sir? Or bread and cheese?"

William shook his head. "Thank you, but no. I am satisfied. There was a tray of food outside my door…" He stopped when the gardener's face drew up into a strange mask.

Mr. Shaggis looked away. "Is that so? It's not my place, sir, but I did not peg you for one of 'em." He shrugged with a sour frown. "Well, to each his own."

"Excuse me?" William's confusion brought the hairs up on the back of his neck. He barely made out what Mr. Shaggis said, as the gardener walked away.

"Well, you took the tray and the woman, but certainly did not spend much time on it…"

 _Oh my God!_ William gulped.

 _…_ _.Philomena?!_

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

Stretching luxuriously in bed, Julia wondered where William had wondered off to this morning.

 _No doubt he's looking for evidence or signs that explain what happened last night. Well, good. I want to know what's transpiring as well._

Stepping out of bed, Julia slipped on a purple silk quilted dressing gown, most grateful for the warmth it provided on a late fall morning. _At least it is not raining much and the storm seems to have passed- a dreary day stuck indoors would be too much!_

Deciding to wait until closer to breakfast time to dress for the day and go downstairs, she chose to sit in the chair by the window and read. She hadn't been there all that long when William sprang into the room as though he were escaping from someone.

 _Had he had an encounter with this spirit as well?_

"William! Whatever is the matter?" she asked getting up to go to him.

William had fled to the safety of their room. He felt ridiculous skulking around; on the other hand, dodging from being seen by anyone (servant or guest he hoped), while avoiding being stalked by Philomena Murray was paramount to his dignity. He had no idea what to say to Julia about it, so he chose to dodge that too.

"I think I may have figured out what has been causing some of the odd experiences, and also what frightened Leonetta Fairweather, although not who did the deeds. I looked around the house—there is minor damage except for the greenhouse. I'm afraid it suffered the most. I will show you what I found after breakfast."

"William, why don't you go down on your own? You must be hungry. After all you are used to having breakfast hours ago," she lowered her lashes and smiled. "You did have a work out. I'll be along after I get ready."

William balked. _Oh, perish the thought._ "Not at all, Julia. I believe I can wait to eat and I'd much rather arrive with you. Take your time. Later I shall help you dress."

With William insisting on waiting until she was ready to go down for breakfast, Julia sailed into the dining room on William's arm, her face smiling brightly. Most of the other guests had already descended.

Her proud countenance must have been unmistakable, judging from the looks they received as she entered.

"You know, it's entirely possible that all of those sounds I heard the first night weren't supernatural at all, but rather quite human in origin," Margaret Swift was saying in a rather pointed stage whisper to her companions, Clyde Harrington, Bruce and Rose Nottingham as William and Julia passed by. The four of them chuckled.

Philomena merely pouted, flicking a cigarette ash into her ashtray. "Indeed. Some people can't help but announce themselves."

Julia felt William go rigid in embarrassment, thinking he was aware of the sexual nature of the jibes.

Julia was embarrassed herself, but as there was nothing to do about it besides go with it, she decided to embrace the comment. With a deep crimson to her own cheeks. Julia acknowledged it, as a scandalous topic wasn't quite so scandalous here.

"Oh, perhaps it was Rose. When we roomed together her snoring was legendary," she countered with a giggle of her own and promptly took her seat as the room erupted in laughter. Rose swatted her husband good-naturedly for joining in. Julia changed the topic so as to spare William any further embarrassment.

William decided he was not going to offer any explanation to Philomena, so he took himself to the buffet and attended to a plate for himself and one for his wife.

"Has anyone else had a chance to survey the damage this morning? I can see a few downed trees just from this window," Julia commented, gesturing towards the large single pane window that looked out onto the lake.

"I tried to find Sam to walk the property this morning. It was the damnedest thing, but I saw where a large sycamore had fallen, but the sapling next to it was unscathed. Of course, it's probably gone now, as the gypsies have undoubtedly already pounced on it for kindling," Clyde commented while drinking his ale.

Breakfast this morning was a similar affair to that of the day before. Of course the events of the previous evening were on everyone's minds, and as Leonetta nor Robert were down yet, speculation abounded on what Leonetta had really seen. William held his tongue, as he was uncertain of his findings and who the perpetrator might have been. Gossip swirled about ghosts, spirits and supernatural forces.

"Perhaps Leonetta saw one of the math exams we used to have to take in the hands of old dead Professor Barnsworth," Keziah joked as she sipped her brandy.

But the conversation soon became strained as the Wilmont sisters entered the room. Daphne held up her hand as she took her seat at the table, dressed in yet another purple outfit and matching leather shoes.

"There are no such things as ghosts and monsters!" Daphne asserted, effectively silencing that topic. So as not to upset her, so the party attempted more polite, acceptable topics of conversation.

"I trust you are well and are sufficiently recovered this morning?" Julia asked as a physician.

"I assure you I am most well and ready to enjoy today," Daphne replied.

What had been strained cordiality with Daphne became downright awkward as Leonetta and Robert came down to breakfast and the proverbial elephant in the room was ignored. William did a quick survey: Marcus Murray, the Harveys and Samuel Wilmont were nowhere in sight; neither was Caroline Balfour or Clint Harrington.

Conversation ground to a halt. After a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Grant King stood up, "Well, I believe I am most curious to see some of the damage around here for myself. Anyone else care to join me for a walk?" he asked, looking at Daphne in particular.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne was anxious to take him up on his offer and most of the others announced that they would follow.

Seeing his chance to discover more, William asked Thelma to remain behind for a few minutes to join Julia and him to go over what he had discovered during the early hours this morning.

In the music room, Thelma was puzzled when William pointed to the mirror. Frustrated without her glasses again, she squinted up. "Why yes, er…William. I am aware that behind there is a passageway between the glasshouse and this room." Thelma answered. "That was my grandmother's idea to make things easier. In the winter the tenderest plants are brought from the glasshouse, which is unheated, into the music room, since it has southern light and is heated. This becomes an indoor hot house."

When William opened the passageway, Thelma was shocked. "That door is not supposed to open from this side—only from the corridor. How did you do that?"

"There is a release mechanism." William explained to Thelma, then his wife. "More than that, ladies," William showed Julia and Thelma how the half-silvered mirror functioned.

"So you believe someone waited for Leonetta and then brought up a light to show themselves?" Thelma asked. "But why?"

William scratched his brow. "All it would take is a simple costume and an oil lamp. Not much time or planning. I am not saying it was necessarily or specifically for Leonetta's benefit; I suppose it was to give a fright to anyone who ventured in? If it _was_ for Leonetta, then why her? And who would know about this?"

Thelma was appalled. "I suppose anyone who had ever been to this house before could have known about it."

"Who, then, is most likely?" William asked.

Thelma stood by the window and bit her thumb. "The long time servants, the gardener of course, Bruce Nottingham since he is my cousin—he and Rose come here often. His father was the brother of my grandmother. This was the old Nottingham place, you realize by now. Donald came here a lot when he and Samuel were at school, Grant King..." She put her arms around her midsection. "Well, I suppose anyone one except Marcus Murray, Robert Fairweather, Josiah Atkinson and you, William. Everyone else has spent time here over the years."

"And of course you, Daphne and Samuel," William continued despite Julia hissing her disapproval and Thelma's offended look.

"But even I did not know the door can be opened from this room!" she insisted.

Julia was focused on the larger issue. "Who would benefit from scaring Leonetta?"

Thelma's posture straightened. "Maybe the target was Daphne! She is always having unlucky events happen to her. I am going to get to the bottom of this!"

Thelma swept out of the room. Julia and William just looked at each other. "What do you think?" he asked.

"The Wilmont family is very tight-knit. Thelma is fiercely protective of Daphne. What I think is that Thelma is on a mission and I am not sure if I will feel sorry for whomever she discovers. She is usually very good at getting to the bottom of things. Woe betide that person…" Julia shrugged. "Other than that, what I think is that this is most likely a prank just as we played on each other at school."

"Julia! This seems rather serious…"

"Agreed. However, to belong at the school meant that we were subjected to hazing, which included playing pranks and trying to get us to react." Julia pulled the mirror open again. "Fascinating. I never knew this was here. I wonder if it was used for spying on the music room, back in the day?"

William opened his hands, showing he had nothing to offer. "I am still bothered by all of this. Would you mind satisfying my curiosity?" He gestured. "I'd like to talk with you and perhaps look at the greenhouse now that Mr. Shaggis has taken care of the broken glass. Of course any evidence of the perpetrator of the fake haunting is long gone."

"William!" Julia chastised. "This is not a criminal case you are pursing. Your powers of deduction are hardly necessary. Never the less I'd be delighted to see where this leads." Julia stepped forward into the dimness, and William closed the door behind. It was eerie to be able to see through the mirror.

The passageway was three feet wide with a jog about halfway down. The rain has stopped by the time the pair emerged from a glass door. The red tile floor was wet and "broom swept" meaning that large debris was pushed aside.

"If someone was coming from the greenhouse last night they would have had to go out and around in all that weather," Julia looked at the smashed panes of glass and damaged vegetation. "And since you found no water on the floor of the music room, they would have had to go back out that way as well."

William surveyed the space more carefully. "That is true, unless they knew how to open it from the inside. It does seem someone has been playing tricks on your friends. In my exploration this morning I found where hardware was loosened or tightened on a few doors and a railing, floor wax was applied too liberally," he gestured. "I found air vents which had been altered, a piece of paper along a door edge to make whistling sound…simple things explainable in an old house but which might be part of a deliberate attempt to create havoc."

Julia tsk tsk-ed. "How juvenile. Really, these are grown…"

William heard it first and laid a hand on her to ask for quiet. From outside, coming from the direction of the causeway, came a great howling paired with a woman's scream. The pair looked at each other, instantly alert.

"This way!" William pushed a small tree aside, found the exit and pelted down a gravel path with Julia close behind. When they arrived at the scene, Mr. Baylis, Mr. Shaggis and Grant King were in the process of pulling a figure from the water onto shore, fighting the waves and the unsteady edge of land. Skidoo was rushing frantically a round while a circle of guests was staring in shock. Caroline Balfour sobbed in Margaret's arms. William reached the shoreline in time to help get the body onto solid ground.

Julia came over to render aid. She tried to expel water from his lungs and applied mouth-on-mouth resuscitation, but it was too late. The body was cold.

"Do something," Daphne yelled while struggling in Grant King's arms.

William knew better, catching Julia's subtle head shake. He made his sign of the cross as she spoke.

"You'd better find Thelma." William saw how sad Julia's face was when she pronounced: "I am so, so sorry. Samuel is gone."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"What were you just saying about my detective powers?" he mumbled softly, leaning in to Julia's ear.

"I didn't say a thing, William. I merely said why did every… oh never mind!" she exclaimed in frustration at being wrong, shooting an exasperated look at William. However, her displeasure quickly dissipated as she realized that that she was looking at the body of one of her old friends.

Mr. Baylis and Mr. Shaggis had transported Samuel's battered body up to the house and into Samuel's room, for lack of a better plan. Thelma had seemed dazed by her brother's death, standing a few feet away from his bed away to observe the corpse, then left to 'make arrangements,' mumbling something about Mr. Shaggis knowing what to do.

Julia was puzzled. "What arrangement is he going to make? The local magistrate? Samuel's physician? An undertaker?"

"Thelma seemed strangely calm, did she not?" William asked. "Do you think this is an accident? The result of one of these pranks?" He paced, "Or more….?"

"I agree with you that she is hiding something, but I don't think _she_ murdered Samuel, if that is what you are thinking," Julia countered.

"Can you give me an estimated time of death?"

"No more than ten hours, certainly. But that is rather obvious as we all saw him alive last night." She manipulated the neck and jaw, flexed Samuel's arm. "The cold water slows rigor. You can see his body carries many abrasions; whether pre-mortem or not needs to be established." She dropped her hands in frustration.

"Oh, Samuel," she murmured. "Who did this to you?" Julia asked the body as she straightened up.

"That's what I intend to find out, Julia," William answered.

William and Julia came downstairs, both occupied by their own private thoughts. In the drawing room Thelma was being comforted by Rose and Keziah as servants busied themselves covering the mirrors and readying the house as place of mourning. Meanwhile, the assembled guests sipped tea and brandy, whispering in hushed tones. William heard the term 'Lakeside Lasher' bandied about. Daphne Wilmont and Grant King were the only ones missing. Everyone looked up when Mr. Shaggis came in.

"Sorry, Miss Thelma, the causeway is not jus' blocked by downed trees, it is flooded, looks like parts is pushed clean away. There's no way to get into town," the man explained.

Leonetta whined. "You mean we cannot leave? What shall we do now?" Robert Fairweather tried soothing his wife.

"What was he doing out there anyways?" Rose's voice wavered.

"The Lasher…" Julia did not hear who that was but shushed it immediately.

"Nonsense! I am sure Samuel was out early surveying the damage. The boat house was swept away by the storm. Perhaps he was trying to walk the causeway or get one of the boats." Bruce answered, patting his wife's hand gently. "Probably to get to the mainland once he saw the road was washed out. He might have tried to snag something that was still sea-worthy."

Donald was irritated. "The water cannot be that deep. Why not just take a wagon and go? If I were in charge…"

"Thank God you are not!" Thelma hissed.

"Depth is deceptive." Josiah answered automatically. The other sailors in the room nodded. "The water is still running fast. Just a few inches of water can sweep a man off his feet. You risk the horses _and_ the driver if you cannot tell how deep the water is."

The room was quiet, the only sounds were of a log sliding down in the hearth.

 _"_ _Three can keep a secret, if two are dead."_ Leonetta's low moan broke the tension. She rose swiftly, a flush on her face. "What secret was Samuel keeping? And who of you is the last one alive?"

Philomena stubbed out a cigarette in disgust. "What do you mean? Leonetta, you are being absurd and are upsetting Thelma."

But Leonetta was not slowing down, even though her husband hushed her. "That is what that horrid gypsy woman told Samuel. She cursed him, just like she cursed me!" Leonetta's fists bunched. "This is all her fault. Her's and Grant's. Get him away from Daphne before more terrible things happen in this whole cursed house." Robert pulled unsuccessfully at her hands to get her to sit again. "Stop it, Robert! I want to go home!"

William saw the other guests absorb Leonetta's hysterical rant, looking away, shifting uncomfortably. Caroline Balfour's face was blanched white.

"A curse?" Dorcas shrunk against her husband. "Are we in danger?"

Julia closed her eyes and shook her head. She did not believe in ghosts or supernatural forces, but many of the others did. She looked at William and they sighed in unison. They were accustomed to death, but Julia knew for a fact that the other houseguests were not. It would be up to them to conduct the investigation into Samuel's death.

"Mrs. White…Thelma. If I may?' William asked softly. "I'd like to look into Samuel's death, just to calm everyone's nerves, until the authorities can get here."

Clyde Harrington objected. "Surely this is a tragic accident?"

"And who are you to do so?" Marcus Murray challenged mildly. "Your wife is a medical person, which I can understand, but you are some sort of teacher, or philosopher, according to Philomena, are you not?"

Josiah Atkinson's eyebrows shot up. "I thought it was physics?"

"Or a chemist," Robert Fairweather added.

"Grant said you were some sort of inventor. Just who _are_ you?" This came from Margaret.

William rubbed his forehead, inhaling to declare himself when Donald Harvey spoke up.

"Didn't you _know_? Mr. Murdoch here is a lowly copper. Don't you ever read the Toronto papers? He can't seem to stay out of them…one way or another. Isn't that right, Julia?" Donald sneered.

William was not sure that was the introduction he wished to make, but there was no turning back. "Yes. I am a detective with the Toronto Constabulary." He eyed the man carefully and knew why most of the women disliked him. He was no better than a pig, just as Julia had said. If the victim had been a female, he would have been the likeliest suspect in William's eyes. _Even still, the man had spent the most time with Samuel Wilmont before his demise, what does he know?_

"I believe it is Detective Murdoch and Doctor Ogden to you at the moment, Mr. Harvey," Julia countered, trying to keep her face calm before the tragedy unfolding at present.

"Thelma, I don't feel comfortable performing an autopsy here under the circumstances, but if you would allow me to externally examine the body, perhaps I can allay any fears as to Samuel's cause of death." She did not wish to allude to the possibility of foul play. Several of the party reacted with alarm so Julia rushed to reassure. "I only wish to find the truth, not tar any of our reputations," she stated calmly.

"I should do it. I don't care one whit about your fancy title, that sort of work is better left to men," Donald Harvey asserted.

"No. A trained professional such as Julia should do it, I do believe," Philomena Murray asserted. "Besides, I didn't think you were allowed to practice medicine after that one incident that got your own name into those very same newspapers," she shot back, taking a drag on her cigarette.

"Yes, I trust Julia," Thelma nodded her head in agreement, ignoring the inopportune sniping.

"With your permission then, I will go upstairs and examine the body," Julia replied, standing.

Rising with her, William nodded. "I believe I will assist Dr. Ogden and then go examine the shoreline to look for evidence of what might have happened, if I may," William asked Thelma.

"Yes, of course, then you will speak directly to me." Thelma's eyes pleaded for discretion.

"I assure you that we will speak about our findings only with you," William assured her.

Julia tried to ignore Donald Harvey's unsettling glare. "Call it a hunch, but I suspect our supposed ghost and this tragic event are somehow linked," she told William, holding out her arm as they left the drawing room and went up to Samuel's room.

"I fear that you may be right," he agreed as he escorted her upstairs.

With William's assistance in undressing and turning the body, she was able to examine Samuel's wounds while William took notes of her findings.

"Given that his lungs expelled water when I attempted resuscitation, I feel reasonably sure that drowning is our cause of death. However, what I am less than sure of is the _manner_ of death. "

"So…misadventure, murder or suicide." William listed on his fingers.

"That _does_ cover it rather thoroughly. I won't swear to one particularly," she replied, examining a deep abrasion on Samuel's head and the lacerations on his body. "Some of these may have happened in life, but others were most assuredly post-mortem. There's no telling what structure, boat, rock or flotsam he may have encountered in the lake," she answered.

"But if you say he obtained some while still alive, how do you know they weren't inflicted by an assault?" he asked.

"I don't know for sure, and I'll come back to examine the body later to see if any hematomas have appeared, but if he were pushed, dragged, or thrown, I would expect to see some sign of a struggle. There doesn't appear to be one at this time," she shrugged.

Nodding, William agreed. "Very well, if you would be so kind as to share your findings so far with Mrs. White, I'll look for any signs of a struggle or accident around the lake," he replied, kissing her cheek.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

After asking for tea to be brought to Thelma's small private boudoir, Julia sat quietly for some time as her old friend unburdened herself of her grief.

"Oh, Thelma, I am truly sorry," Julia comforted her. "I can't imagine how difficult it must be to face this problem individually, let alone with a house full of guests."

Thelma wiped her eyes and cleaned tear stains from her glasses. Her normally smooth hair was frizzled out. "This was supposed to be a fun, farewell weekend to this place, with just us women, but Samuel said he'd found a potential buyer, said he wanted to invite him too – I was shocked that it was Donald Harvey. I tried to get Samuel to have him the following weekend, but Donald insisted upon this weekend. Something about wanting to see all of 'his girls' again," she replied with a shudder.

"Typical Donald," Julia snorted. "I'm assuming there are no other buyers," she asked.

"I have no idea. The house was never listed, when he said he found someone we knew that was interested in the property, I assumed it was Marcus and Philomena Murray, as they live here in Newcastle. But it was Donald, and that made me angry that that pig was being given first crack at it over others," Thelma stated.

Julia saw that Thelma was more settled now, so she thought it was time to share her findings. "Thelma, I have examined Samuel. I believe your brother drowned—that is likely to be the cause of death."

"You think he slipped and fell in the water?" Thelma's face showed her pain. "He was a strong swimmer. The water must have been so difficult." She trailed off, her gaze unfocused.

Julia spoke cautiously. "I don't know all the circumstances as of yet—I will be able to know more in a few hours and of course William will be reporting what he can find about where and how we think Samuel went in the water."

"I…I understand."

"Thelma, tell me, and please be honest. I don't believe in supernatural events, and neither do you, unless you've changed. Tell me, did the house suffer from any of these supernatural events previous to this weekend?" Julia forthrightly asked.

"No, it did not. It has its quirks much like any old house, but nothing like what's been happening the past few days."

"That's what I assumed as well," Julia prompted.

Thelma put her head up. "I was embarrassed, but I just assumed that it was the boys playing pranks on us as they used to do," she admitted, frowning. "Samuel insisted it was merely lack of maintenance. I swear this property was going to be the death of us…I just did not think that was going to be so literal…"

Thelma looked like she was going to say more, before startling at a noise.

A soft knocking sound on the chamber door interrupted the flow of conversation. Julia gestured to Thelma to stay seated and went to the door, opening it to admit William. She glanced at the case clock in surprise—almost an hour had passed.

William approached Thelma, standing with his hat brim in his fingers while Julia seated herself next to their hostess. "Mrs. White. Unfortunately, it is impossible to tell exactly where Samuel went in the water, other than it was on the bay side." The area where Samuel had been pulled up was a muddy, sandy mess. William himself almost slipped in while prowling along the water-softened embankment and he saw the entire shoreline was a wreck, making any signs impossible to read. "One theory is that Samuel was trying to beach a boat to empty the water, perhaps to row to the mainland, and he was injured or pulled under. The water is very rough by the river outlet."

Sighing and rubbing her face, Thelma nodded. "Poor Samuel-he tried so hard."

William shared a look with Julia before continuing. "Mrs. White. There is the possibility of foul play, or another answer. Did your brother have any disagreements with anyone? Anything troubling him?"

Thelma's lips remained sealed for a long time before she licked them and spoke. "Of course there was the poor investments he made, which are now necessitating the sale of this place, and while we were sad to be losing it, neither Daphne nor I were devastated by it. It's become quite the burden to maintain and run, to be perfectly honest," she shrugged sadly. "I made it known to him that selling the property was a minor loss in the grand scheme of things."

"I have to ask…was he despondent?" William questioned.

Thelma's posture stiffened. "He even commented once that his death would be enough to keep this place in the family, I told him that that was an incredibly absurd idea," she choked up, wiping her eyes again with her handkerchief before replacing her eyeglasses. "I cannot countenance that he'd take his life, if that was what you are suggesting! He _was_ very angry about all the odd goings on."

Julia knew better than to push the topic at the moment, guessing that suicide was exactly what Thelma feared. "Perhaps we need to look to see if these so-called hauntings play a role in what has transpired here…?" Julia said, holding Thelma's hands in hers.

"That means William and I may ask some questions of the guests and staff, and we'll need to look around the house in greater detail than we already have," Julia pressed.

"Of course, but…" Thelma's tight voice implored, "Just _please,_ promise me the utmost discretion."

"I promise you, we shall continue to share our finding first with you prior to anyone else," Julia agreed, getting a nod from William.

 _There was nothing left to do now but get on with it._


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Julia left Thelma with instructions to rest and a promise she'd send Daphne in. She and William descended the staircase in close consultation.

Acknowledging that Julia was personally invested as Samuel had been a friend of hers, William began cautiously. "Mrs. White hopes that this is a tragic accident, yet I suppose we must consider the alternatives…even that one of these 'pranks' went horribly awry." William explained. "Of course, we will examine all of the possibilities, even the more objectionable ones. Accident, or for that matter suicide, at least means there is no murderer with whom we are trapped."

Julia stopped their progress to whisper urgently in his ear. "Yes, William, suicide may be a possibility. But we can't dismiss the motive of blackmail, or that as his cousin and now the closest male relative Bruce Nottingham might inherit the house now…or that Donald Harvey might yet get it for a song. What was it the psychic said? _Three can keep a secret if two are dead?_ I know she was guessing, but what if she had a point? Or someone else _thought_ she did? Was Samuel carrying a secret that someone did not wish to have exposed? Was there some past revenge from school? We certainly can't just say that this is or is not a suicide without investigating it!" she argued hotly.

"It _would_ seem an odd time to choose to end one's life," he said agreeably. In his opinion, Julia was overly emotional about this, even considering the circumstances. _Perhaps her hormone treatments?_ "I need you to remain objective, Julia, please!" he pleaded, grabbing her hands and looking at her.

"William! You know how it irritates me when you treat me like a hysteric! I'm not one of the bored housewives you encounter! Of course I'll remain objective, I just want you to remain open to possibilities," Julia replied then gave herself a good exhale. "Did you really find no indications, nothing suggesting a struggle?"

"I do remain open minded, Julia," he insisted. "The shoreline is too compromised to tell us much of anything, and by its condition I suspect he certainly _could_ have fallen in. It does not take much to miscalculate and suffer a tragedy."

His mind brought him several memories of pulling battered sailors or passengers out of the water or off the beach; bodies which looked very much like Samuel's. _My own experience as a youth has taught me that all manner of bad outcomes befall people in and on the water_. Drowning to death, he knew, was really not quite the way romantic notions portray it.

 _It was horribly painful, lingering and terrifying._

"Still, William, an accident, right after a vague threat is still most suspicious." Julia asserted. "Where are those famously-honed detective skills?"

William knew he was going to relent. "Any investigation starts with the physical evidence. The body will need time to ripen those bruises, will it not?" When she indicated 'yes' William suggested they divide and conquer. "We can start by establishing where everyone was from after the séance last night until Samuel's body was found, to include the staff and guests. We shall frame it as wishing to know what Samuel's last hours were to establish a time of death."

Nodding, Julia agreed. "I think that is a good idea, it is less threatening and people will be less likely to be so defensive with us."

"We can begin with our own observations and whereabouts, then get the rest filled in…"

Julia saw William's mind working.

"I have just the thing," he told her. "There is a chalk board in the billiard room I can use that to organize our findings."

"Very well, I will start with speaking with Daphne before I send her up to Thelma, and I will also make arrangements to meet with the staff to interview them," Julia agreed.

"Then I will speak with the other guests." He hesitated. "Julia, you may not like where this goes. We will be uncovering secrets…you know how deadly those can be," he warned. "I know we promised, but I have no jurisdiction here."

"No, you're correct that we don't have any official standing, but as of right now, we're all that there is, and someone has to do it," she countered.

 **.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.**

Julia found Daphne in the music room of all places, sitting alone as she stared into the mirror.

"Daphne, I was wondering if I might have a word with you for a moment? I know you're not up to entertaining guests, but I'm just trying to ascertain what Samuel's final hours may have been like, to establish his state of mind, to ascertain whether or not his death was accidental or otherwise…" she trailed off.

"Yes, I figured you might want to talk at some point, no matter that I disagree with Thelma on the whole matter," she shrugged. "Very well then, what would you like to know? The last time I saw him was in this very room, and…" she teared up for a few moments.

"Has Thelma told you that this mirror is really a special two-sided glass?" She asked Julia, pointing towards the mirror.

"Yes," Julia demonstrated by walking over to the object and triggering the hidden latch to open the door, then showing how light from the passageway dissolved Daphne's reflection.

"I never knew it opened from this side." Daphne shook her head, pointing to the mirror. "Is that what scared Leonetta last night?" she asked.

"Most likely, yes. What I'm trying to determine is whether or not anyone knew of your plans to come here, and who?" Julia wondered. "Is it possible that you were the intended target of a prank instead of Leonetta? Or was there no intended target and whomever just happened to be the first to walk in would be the victim?" Julia asked.

She sighed with feeling. "I do sometimes think I am that unlucky. I tripped on one of the hall carpets, so righting myself and straightening the rug delayed me a moment allowing Leonetta to get to the music room before me." She shrugged. "There was so much going on with that fortune teller and all, but pranking me? I never went to school with any of them."

"Who knew you were coming to this room?"

"I told Grant where we were going. It wasn't a secret that Leonetta and I were going to look for music. I suppose anyone could have overheard and snuck off before I left."

Julia had to agree with that. "What do you know about the pranks?"

"Sam said it was a way of bonding with the other male students…and getting the female students at McGill to cling to the lads." She shrugged her shoulders at the idea.

"I see." Julia wanted to know more about Samuel's state of mind from those who knew him best. "Daphne, how had your brother… _been..._ lately? Had you noticed any changes in him?" She watched Daphne's open face closely as the woman's thoughts and feelings fought with each other. It took a while before one side declared victory.

Daphne half smiled. "Sam was Sam… which meant he sheltered me. I do know he was unhappy dealing with Donald Harvey."

"Was anyone else arguing with your brother?"

"Oh, no, Sam did not have any words with Donald." Daphne's head sunk to her chest, taking a moment to think. "It was _yesterday_ afternoon. I heard Samuel and Grant having words. At first I thought it may have something to do with me, so I listened. But Grant was telling Sam that he didn't always have to do what he wanted. He said Sam could put his foot down and tell him enough, but Sam replied that it wasn't that simple. I don't know to whom they were referring. At that point, I didn't wish to remain silent any longer, and I announced my presence. They quickly changed topic," she replied. "But the real problem was when Thelma announced the guest list."

"Oh?"

"Caroline Balfour. He tried to order Thelma to rescind the invitation." Daphne looked like she'd cry again. "I have no idea why."

Julia tried not to show her surprise. _Most curious._ "One more thing. Can you tell me to whom I might speak about interviewing your staff? William and I will need to talk with the servants who were here last night, a list of their names perhaps as well? Perhaps one of them knows something about Samuel's movements last night or this morning."

Daphne frowned. "You recall he left the séance to manage the staff? We do not keep a proper household, not like grandmamma did. Most of the servants were hired from town for the day and decided to go home despite the storm. Baylis and Roger Shaggis room over the carriage house with Baylis' sister. In the house overnight, we only have Cook, two kitchen aides, one maid and one manservant today. You should talk with Cook first." She coloured. "We are rather short staffed. Thelma does not want anyone to know…"

 _So many petty secrets._ "And I won't tell anyone, Daphne. Thank you for speaking with me. Thelma has been asking for you, perhaps you could go up to her?"

"Yes, I suppose that the scene in the music room put a rather abrupt end to our dinner party, and I suggested to Sam that we bachelors all enjoy a drink in the study to wind down from all the excitement. It was the Harrington Twins, Sam and I of course. Enjoyed some fine single malt scotch and then scuttered off to bed ourselves about an hour after everyone else," the man replied as he looked methodically through the collection of books.

Julia looked at Grant King's studied casualness, thinking he might be a little drunk already or just very good at hiding his feelings about his best friend's death.

"Of course there was no surprise that Sam put me in the same room as he. No sneaking off for a bit of fun in the middle of the night with him there…not that Daphne would have been in the mood for such after what happened," he replied gesturing towards the music room.

"What time was this?" Julia wondered.

"About midnight, I suppose. I woke up briefly about five-thirty to visit the water closet. I must have woken him up, I guess, as he got dressed soon afterwards, saying something about surveying storm damage around the property at dawn," Grant murmured, staring into the distance. "Such a damned shame, I never saw him again. I wish now I had offered to make the rounds with him," he said, shaking his head.

Julia just could not fathom Grant's oddly detached attitude. "Please forgive me for seeming intrusive, but I'm trying to gather all of the facts. Daphne said she overheard the two of you having a disagreement of sorts. You were admonishing Sam for not standing his ground, but she says she didn't hear anything more," Julia pressed on.

"Sam was not enjoying himself this weekend, that much was clear. You saw him Julia, is that the Sam you remember from school? He was but a pale copy of his usually vibrant personality. Instead of being himself, he was following that oaf Harvey around, agreeing to whatever he wished like he was beholden to Harvey, that he needed to go along with his wishes, and I told him to say no. By then, I was starting to think that maybe there was something going on, but alas, I never got the chance to talk to him again in private," he shrugged.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The mood in the drawing room was, quite naturally, subdued. William spent a moment observing the guests with a new appreciation, seeing grief, worry, and irritation in relatively equal proportions.

 _What secrets were these bright individuals harbouring?_

He knew there were always secrets, the trick was knowing which ones were pertinent. He saw Dorcas Harvey was sitting by herself, having been abandoned once again by her husband. If he had his druthers he'd go after Donald Harvey straight away, so for that reason alone he was going to make that conversation be the last one: he wanted to be armed with as much information as possible before asking Mr. Harvey anything.

 _Could any of these people have contributed in any way to Samuel Wilmont's death?_

He sighed. Once committed, William Murdoch was going to see this through—one interview at a time. He decided to start with Josiah Atkinson by leaning on the acquaintance they scraped with each other over snooker. He approached the man and pulled him aside.

Atkinson looked at William from over his glasses. "Police officer, eh?"

William admitted it with a self-deprecating smile. He had been thinking hard about how to frame the questions he wanted to ask. This was his first chance to try it out: "Were you aware of anything pertaining to Mr. Wilmont that might help understand his death?"

Josiah was thoughtful. "No, only that he was foolish to go out by himself into the water! I think Bruce is right, what other explanation is there?"

William did not answer. He followed with the next question. "What do you think about these odd events this house and its guests have been experiencing?"

"Having never been here before I have nothing to compare it to, but my wife tells me the Harringtons, Samuel Wilmont and Donald Harvey were rather merciless in their puerile antics whilst at McGill. Even Bruce Nottingham got in the mix until it went too far one night and Rose put her foot down." Josiah obviously did not find it amusing.

"When was the last time you saw Samuel Wilmont?"

"The music room last evening. My wife and I went to bed right after that business with Leonetta Fairweather and we got up and were downstairs by nine this morning." Josiah appeared calm and measured. "Keziah is quite upset, obviously, about Samuel."

"And you never saw Samuel Wilmont at any time after you left the music room last night?"

"No, can't say as we did."

 _Well, in for a penny….as the Inspector would say._

William tried to be direct yet delicate, not wishing to offend a man he genuinely liked. "So you and your wife can account for each other, neither of you saw anyone else last night…"

Josiah's thick eyebrows dipped into a deep "V". "No, sir! I understand your meaning, William, or shall I say detective? My wife and I are not familiar with upper-class mores, nor do _we_ partake."

The two men shared an uncomfortable silence. William smiled sadly, suspecting that he'd just lost Josiah's good favour. He was not looking forward to the many more awkward conversations which were ahead of him.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Julia's interviews were singularly unproductive.

None of the household staff saw Samuel after he bumped into Cook on the way out of the kitchen near dawn, generally confirming Grant King's version of events. That gave a window for time of death of roughly three and a half hours: 6:30 am to 10:00 am, which brought several questions to her mind.

Julia's own instincts argued against suicide but she had to acknowledge that _something_ had been eating at him.

 _It is entirely possible that I may have to accept that Samuel did the unthinkable and ended his life._

Not yet ready to agree to that finding, and thinking that perhaps enough time had elapsed, Julia made her way back upstairs to Samuel's darkened bedroom, anxious to see if his body would yield any more clues to his demise.

Julia opened the curtains to let in the noon-time light. She turned around to view the bed, when she discovered that Samuel's body had instead presented her with another mystery:

 _eIt had disappeared!_


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

"This is too much," she yelled out loud. _"Just too much!"_ Julia stood with her fists on her hips in outrage.

 _How is it that bodies in my care have a habit of vanishing!_

This was supposed to have been a fun weekend with her friends, an opportunity to escape the demands of the city, their jobs, their responsibilities and expectations. Instead, she was stuck with yet another busman's holiday, and she'd had enough.

 _If we're successful in our endeavor for a child, is this what we can expect our family vacations to be like?_

Grunting in exasperation, she set out to find her husband, fuming all the way.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

William scratched the skin over his right eyebrow in consternation whilst surveying the room. _This is rapidly getting out of hand._

Worse yet was the occasional glare he was received from Marcus Murray, which he presumed had something to do with the assignation planned by his wife, Philomena. Up to this point William had calculated that it was better for him to question Julia's friends to avoid putting her in an awkward position; so far the other house guests were rather disinclined to subject to themselves to his investigation, becoming more anxious as time dragged by.

Composures were starting to unravel.

"That's it! I am sorry but my nerves cannot take any more. Robert? I wish to leave, right now!" Leonetta was not the only one who was distraught. Rose Nottingham and Margaret Swift were beside Leonetta to calm her down, worry etching both their faces. "That woman cursed Samuel, and he is dead." Leonetta returned to this topic like a skip on a gramophone recording. Her husband just sat with his head in his hands.

"Oh for goodness sake! No one is going anywhere." Philomena threw out sharply. "A blind woman spouts vague nonsense and you go all aquiver. You are committing an error in logic. _Post hoc ergo propter hoc_ – drawing cause and effect conclusions where none exist. Samuel suffered a tragic accident; that is all. Besides, that Gypsy pointed in Donald's direction just as surely as she pointed at Samuel—they sat right next to each other."

"Here now!" Donald complained as Dorcas gasped. Several others grumbled in agreement with Philomena. Clint Harrington sat consoling Caroline Balfour, who had only stopped trembling when Skidoo presented himself to be petted, his huge beige and black head resting in her lap.

"Phil is right, 'Netta," Clint said soothingly. "A tragic accident early this morning, nothing that anyone could have predicted. We all know how Samuel was; the water was his life and he was fearless, so I am sure he was trying to go for help."

His brother Clyde echoed the sentiment, which did not stop Donald Harvey from taking a verbal swipe at Samuel, violating the first rule of etiquette, to not speak ill of the dead.

Grant King slapped his drink down on the leather-inset table in protest. "Be quiet, you miserable bastard! Have you no decency?"

William was concerned it would come to blows when he spotted Julia standing in the hallway. She caught his eye and pointed "up."

 _Finally! Some I actually want to speak with!]=_

He nodded at her with a small shrug to let her know he'd be along.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Making sure no one could observe her, Julia motioned to William to meet her in their room where she waited impatiently, her agitation building. Once her husband opened the door she collapsed in his arms in tears. Her anger had dissipated into a mixture of both ire and fear once she found the silent strength and love of her husband. Somewhere between sobs and exasperation, she managed to tell her husband that Samuel's body was missing.

"What?!" William was flummoxed. He'd been alarmed at Julia's emotional display, then it took a minute for him to register that she was serious. "Is this another of your friends' tasteless pranks? Rather morbid…"

William saw his wife's face fall. _Oh, dear. That was not quite right…_ Recovering quickly he asked. "Julia, did you see any evidence of what happened to his body?"

Julia shook her head. "No, nothing obvious. The floors are wooden, so no drag marks over carpeting. The bedclothes are still there, I think. What on earth is going on?"

"Julia, I admit I believed all these odd events were merely pranks or some sort of hoax. Now I wonder if there has not been something more malevolent going on."

"Not you too! Believing in ghosts and spirits!" She sighed. "What do the others think killed Samuel? "

William flushed briefly. "The consensus is for a tragic accident."

"Well, I think our new development rules out accident, don't you?" She exhaled in exasperation.

"Agreed. I think it also rules out suicide as well." William was already thinking through the implications.

"The body did not get up and hide itself, um…this time." She had a memory flash of another corpse who got up off her gurney in the morgue. "The cook told me he passed her just before dawn on the way out of the kitchen door. Time of death is therefore between six thirty and ten."

"None of the other guests admitted to seeing him this morning, although no one was all that forthcoming."

"My thinking was that certain kinds of _perimortem_ injuries or bruising would confirm an altercation which is why, I assume, the body was removed. Therefore, I am now leaning towards assault, meaning Samuel was murdered." She paced a bit. "What I want to know is where he was and what he was doing in the hour between when Grant said he left his room and Cook says he left the house."

William watched her stride back and forth like a clock pendulum. "Actually Julia, I think we have a more pertinent question: What are the odds the person who removed Samuel's remains was NOT involved in his demise?"

"Because no one would move him unless they wanted to obscure evidence. I _hate_ it when that happens…" Julia muttered. "Who could have removed him on their own? You know how difficult dead weight is—literally. Clint is strong enough I suppose."

"And Donald Harvey?"

Julia did a clinical appraisal of the man's physique. "It is hard to know how much muscle is under all that excess padding. He would have had trouble maneuvering because of his own bulk…but I would not put it past him."

"We only have to pin down the time between when you left Samuel's body and when you discovered he was missing, then we look for who cannot be accounted for." It did not escape him that also meant he did not have to say anything about Philomena's early morning proposition.

They made their way to the other wing of the house. Julia and William knocked quietly on Thelma's door. Daphne answered, ushering them to chairs set beside the fire.

"What have you come up with, Julia?"

Thelma's question was direct, just as Julia expected. Her friend was red-eyed yet composed. Julia faltered a bit, having second thoughts about telling the two sisters about losing their brother's body.

"Mrs. White, Miss Wilmont, have either of you made any decision about Samuel's body?" William tried to ask matter-of-factly. "Had his…remains… moved to another part of the house, for instance…?"

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Word quickly spread throughout the house that Samuel's body was missing, and unsurprisingly, what had once been a thick tension began to devolve into all hell breaking loose: With the causeway washed out and no telephones or electricity to call for help, they were all seemingly trapped with a killer.

Drinking some of Samuel's fine single malt scotch in the billiard room, Julia could hear Leonetta's shrieks from one floor and several rooms away, rolling her eyes so hard she was surprised her eyes hadn't stuck there as her nanny had been fond of telling her once upon a time.

 _Considering how foolish some of them are acting, it's going to be death by misadventure for a few of them at the rate they're going,_ she thought churlishly, finishing her drink and pouring herself another.

She and William continued to remain calm and quiet while the rest of the house panicked in one form or another. _William is right, they had no jurisdiction at the house, and there was, now, nothing tangible about Samuel's death that could prove foul play other than his missing corpse._

Over on one wall, William was busy creating a grid on the game-room's score board to organize their information. He raised an eyebrow at her alcohol consumption but said nothing as she paced the room, looking out the window. Outside, Grant King and Bruce Nottingham could be heard discussing ways of making the old lighthouse operational once more and signaling for help that way.

William chose to remain in the billiard room, figuring that his presence would be unwelcome as he had alienated any good will with his earlier questioning. _Besides, if they need any help, they know where to find me,_ he thought. He put the chalk down and dusted his hands.

"Julia? Come here, will you? What do you think?" William stood back from his work so he could view the whole picture better. "I can identify only four people who do not have an answer for where they were from approximately ten-forty until twelve noon: Bruce Nottingham, Donald Harvey, Caroline Balfour and Clint Harrington."

"Caroline? She and Clint were probably hoping for privacy," Julia observed.

"Perhaps, but they do not alibi each other."

"Could that be a ploy to divert suspicions of them working together?"

William thought that was a devious idea and told her so. "What I don't understand is who would have a motive for killing Samuel. There is nothing I learned about Clint Harrington to suggest a motive. Caroline Balfour was a last minute addition to the party to which Samuel objected for an unknown reason. Mr. Nottingham inherits the property, according to what Thelma White told us. Donald Harvey hoped to purchase the property, so his motive might also be financial gain, but by all accounts Samuel and he did not argue—it was Grant King and Samuel who actually had words."

"Honestly, William, you may as well look no further than Donald Harvey until you are 100% certain he isn't involved; but of course you won't have to, because that odious cretin is responsible," Julia erupted at the mention of Harvey's name.

William was shocked. "Julia, I understand Mr. Harvey was an obnoxious person at university who seems to have not improved over time. But why are you so certain that he is the culprit?"

"Because he's an evil man!" she snapped.

"Julia, I don't understand. It sounds like you are holding back. Speak plainly."

She was ambivalent. Having started the conversation she was uncertain she wanted to see it through; it felt too ugly. "Surely I'm not the only one with a difficult secret, you must have a couple yourself." Julia deflected from answering. "Don't you have a secret or two William? Things you have not ever shared with me, or your priest?"

He startled, feeling heat on his face, thoughts immediately going to Julia's first wedding day: his priest was the only human with whom he ever wanted to share that secret. He pressed his lips tightly: there were in fact more than a few things he'd never shared with his wife. Thankfully, Julia did not seem to notice his consternation as she rattled on…

"You cannot tell me other institutions, the constabulary or the Church for that matter, will not protect themselves with secrets and lies? William - surely this is not a new concept for you?"

"Julia," William said carefully, trying to get back to the problem at hand. "What about Donald Harvey?"

Eyes flashing in anger, she clenched her fists. "Women aren't allowed to tell him no," speaking through clenched teeth. Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head as though she were trying to rid herself of a bad memory. "I told you that he was my laboratory supervisor. He was a couple of years ahead of us and amongst the students who most vociferously objected to the addition of women at school. Then, once we were admitted, as an upper classman he enjoyed his position and the power it gave him over us. And believe me, he used it…"

William noted her odd tone of voice along with her enraged facial expression and felt his blood run cold. "Clearly something substantial has happened between the two of you that you have yet to tell me. Speak plainly, please," William asked, his own concern contributing to the escalating tension in the room.

"William…" she vacillated for a moment, trying to get a handle on her rage so that she could speak coherently. "As I said before, he doesn't take no for an answer." Julia said this in a rush, then rose to pace, talking furiously, control lost. "He forces himself on you whether you want his attentions or not… he doesn't think you should have a say in the matter because you're a woman and he's a man – it's your job to fulfill his wants and needs!" She inhaled a gulp of air to go on. "Initially he started out with inappropriate comments, but I had prepared myself for those, and when he saw that those had no effect on me, he began with inappropriate touches that grew bolder with my lack of capitulation or reaction. Finally, he exposed himself to me and pleasured himself, telling me that if I was going to be a doctor, I had best understand how the male body worked!" Julia turned to William and spat the last bit out.

William was appalled, taking a moment to absorb the full impact of her words. "I see. It seems to me that silence has protected men like Donald Harvey, so why keep it? _That_ does not sound like the woman I know…" he wondered aloud.

Laughing sharply, Julia took another pull on her drink, the scotch fueling her righteous anger. "Haven't you listened to a damn thing I've said over the years, William? To anything that other women may have told you? I never came forward because it would have been used as an excuse to bar women from McGill and perhaps from higher education beyond a single school. That was a real possibility! Though I did nothing to invite it, it still would have been my fault; I would have been the distraction. Little to nothing would have happened to him, but I and the other women would have been ruined. We would have been sent home, and the great experiment called a failure," she snorted.

William thought he could appreciate that sort of prejudice and pressure. He looked at her critically, imagining those experiences explained her attitude towards certain male colleagues over the years. "How did you successfully manage him?"

Draining the contents of her glass, Julia continued. "Well…I remained stoic in front of him. I, um…may have made an offhand comment about his abnormally small genitalia…." She bared her teeth wickedly at the memory. "The next time we met, he told me that it was time that I learned how babies were made. But I was prepared for such an event, and I had asked Philomena to hide in a cabinet. She sprung out with a camera and snapped a photograph and ran out of the room before he could destroy the evidence. I told him that if he was ever untoward to me again, I would ruin and humiliate him. It worked, but he has hated me ever since." Julia calmly finished before standing up and walking over to the bar, pouring herself another drink. "I suppose I would be remiss if I did not state that letting the other women down was also a factor in how I chose to solve my …. _untenable_ situation ." She looked at him and sighed. "My pregnancy would also have proven all of the naysayers right, and I would have hurt more than just myself," she whispered, looking down at her lap. "It was always more than just me," she whispered, looking down at her hands.

Exhaling, William nodded and stood, taking in the enormity of what he'd been told. "Julia, was he…" William fumbled, unsure of how to phrase the loaded, bitter tasting question. "Was Donald Harvey the man responsible for your untenable situation?" William asked, fearing the answer, but to desperate to know.

Julia, who had been taking a healthy swig of fine scotch at that moment, barely avoided spitting it out. She'd not been prepared for the question. But seeing the genuine concern on his face, she relented, making a point to remove all anger from her voice.

"No, William. Unfortunately, that was a mistake of my own choosing," she replied.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

William went downstairs to round everyone up. Notwithstanding Julia's hatred for Mr. Harvey, and his own disgust, William was trying to keep an even hand and an open mind, with plans to focus on Clint Harrington, Caroline Balfour, and Bruce Nottingham as well as her nemesis, Donald Harvey.

Julia promised to follow in a minute with Thelma and Daphne. Meanwhile William was _de facto_ presiding again in the drawing room where no one was willing to confess to having moved Samuel's body. Unfortunately, before he could make any headway on that, he had to make order out of the chaos.

"We must be allowed to leave!" This time it was Dorcas Harvey pleading her case, causing Leonetta to re-commence her weeping. Robert Fairweather kept patting his wife's hand in consolation, while Donald Harvey groused as he paced, adding to the tense atmosphere.

Bruce Nottingham tried to inject some logic into the room. "We cannot leave until the water level drops or a boat comes from the outside. I am very familiar with the way the water runs after a rain storm this heavy—there's flash flooding and the river runs high into the lake."

"What about the lighthouse in the tower? Is the lamp still there? Can it be lit and turned towards land?" Margaret asked. "Or can someone swim over?"

Grant King answered that. "No, to both questions. The visibility is too poor even if we could get the old light going. If someone swam over, it is miles of walking before getting to a boat or telephone, let alone get to town."

"Besides, Mr. Murdoch here thinks we are in a _Dorcas Dene_ detective novel by Mr. George Sims or he is some sort of Sherlock Holmes about to announce who the killer is, eh Murdoch?" Donald Harvey's jibe got the whole room complaining again.

William extended his hands and coughed to get attention "Ladies, Gentleman. Mr. King and Mr. Nottingham are correct. The river is running high at the same time the waters of the lake are rebounding back this way. As you can see," he motioned out the window, "to make matters worse, weather is closing in on us again."

The noise abated slightly. "And what about you? Who are you to question us?" Donald Harvey stopped pacing long enough to throw out from the back of the room. "By the way….where were _you_ early this morning?"

William saw Marcus Murray glower at his wife, while she gave him an innocent smile.

"Stop it, Donald. Not every man takes his vows as a mere clause in a business contract that can be buried in vague language and fine print." Thelma entered the room, taking command with her clear voice. She put her glasses in her left hand to rub the bridge of her nose with her right. "I trust him, Donald; that is enough. I asked him to help."

The room was silent except for the fire crackling and popping in the grate. All eyes eventually, if begrudgingly, migrated in William's direction. "I have no interest in anything that transpired last night or early his morning, nor do I imagine does anyone else." He cleared his throat again, wishing he was dressed in his usual work day suit to lend additional gravitas to his presence. "I'd like to speak with you, Mr. Harvey, also Clint Harrington, Mr. Nottingham and Miss Balfour, if I may? Starting with Miss Balfour."

He gestured to the hall as an invitation to some privacy. Caroline did not look towards Clint or anyone else, her eyes boring into William's. She rose gracefully and followed him out.

From Caroline he learned that she had initially thought it was another prank, angry about putting a dummy into the water dressed as Clint Harrington as another awful 'joke', then thought it actually _was_ Clint who had drowned, which is why she had been so upset at the water's edge.

William visualized a comparison between the twins and Samuel Wilmont, seeing a general resemblance of height and colouring which survived the passage of twenty years.

"I am embarrassed to have been so beside myself…yet I am not sure I could have tolerated another such loss…" Caroline's face teared up as she accepted William's handkerchief. She had no witness for the time when Samuel's body went missing, having taken a brandy to her room and laid back down.

"I have no idea who would do such a thing, detective. Clint and Clyde were his great friends; they used to be called the 'triplets' or the 'Three Musketeers ' at McGill, pulling all sorts of mischief, roping in Grant as well. They treated each other like brothers. I cannot imagine any of them as capable of doing any actual harm, or disrespecting Samuel."

"Miss Balfour, do you know anyone who would wish harm to Samuel?"

She turned her large eyes beseechingly up at William, shaking her head. "You think one of us killed Samuel, don't you?" she stated, then Caroline stood abruptly at a commotion from the doorway, not waiting for an answer.

William swung around to the sight of Julia being helped in by Mr. Shaggis with Skidoo milling anxiously about.

"Julia?!" William went to her with his own anxiety mounting. She had a cloth held to her head with a tinge of blood showing.

"I …I am all right, truly." She sat heavily in a plush chair. "I was just frightened out of my wits for a moment…perhaps I had too much to drink earlier? Still, I think for now I just need a brandy to calm my nerves."

Caroline quickly fetched the drink and handed William a tumbler which he passed on to his wife, watching her take several shaky sips. "Mr. Shaggis, what happened here?" he asked, rather sharply.

"I found her sitting on the back stairs, well…actually Skidoo did." Mr. Shaggis patted the dog. "She's a little wobbly-like."

William knelt down and peeked under Julia's bandage. "Who did this to you?" he demanded.

Guests who followed Caroline pushed in, the Harringtons in the lead, followed by Josiah Atkinson, and Marcus and his wife.

"Another accident?" Marcus inquired.

"Accident my foot! This is no penny dreadful mystery, Marcus," Philomena hissed at her husband, clearly upset at Julia's injury. "This is serious. Someone has gone way too far! I am starting to agree with Leonetta—I want to leave. Now!"

 _"'_ _Nostra Defendant Nos –_ We defend ourselves. That's what the entrance gate initials, NDN means; not the Nottingham family name. Rose told me." Dorcas' thin voice carried in the silence after Philomena's rant. Skidoo leaned against Dorcas' legs, nearly unbalancing her so she grabbed the dog's collar to keep herself upright. "The house takes care of itself."

William was not prone to swearing, but in his head he heard himself echo a 'Bloody Hell' as everyone began to fuss and complain, Skidoo's howl just adding to the din.

He sighed: _Now what?_


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

"I was in a hurry, slipped on the stairs and hit my head is all. I think the tread was either loose or something slick was under foot. It was rather cramped. " Julia's drink was reviving her.

"Detective…er…, William. I don't believe in coincidences of this magnitude," Josiah Atkinson quietly cautioned. "Statistically speaking…"

William had already come to a similar conclusion. "Indeed, Mr. Atkinson." He suddenly recalled what Mr. Shaggis told him after he stumbled that first night out on the lawn, and their hostess' claims about Samuel needing to do so many repairs. "I think there have been a number of mishaps this past few days. It may be that Samuel was the only person who actually knew how many and what they were."

" _Josiah,_ please. There must be an explanation somewhere under the bell curve between accidents and hauntings," Atkinson smiled modestly. "May I be of assistance?"

Looking at Josiah, William recognized this was the way the other man was apologizing for their earlier friction, rather than a suspect inserting himself into an investigation. Since Julia needed time to recuperate, William decided to take a chance. "If I may impose on you to move everyone back into the salon then join me in the kitchen hallway?"

Request accepted, William allowed Josiah to work while he checked on his own wife. "Julia, did anyone know you were going to use the servants' stairs?"

"Hardly, as I did not know ahead of time myself."

"And you are certain no person pushed you, or tripped you?"

"Quite."

William did not betray his skepticism. _Slight amnesia is not uncommon with a blow to the head,_ and he regretted handing her more alcohol, but it was too late for that. "Julia, I need to finish my questioning, then I want to examine where you fell."

"I will go with…" Julia tried to rise then sat down with a plop, her hand back to her head. "Perhaps not."

"Please don't trouble yourself. I will send someone over to sit with you." William placed a kiss on her forehead. He straightened his jacket, faced the doorway and stalked over to the salon.

 _I need to have a word or two with Donald Harvey._

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Philomena excused herself to find some tea and biscuits, so Julia remained alone in the library. She reclined on the faded but still plush green velvet settee and stared blankly out the window, watching the weather gradually turn foul once again.

She'd had a few drinks during her discussion with William earlier, but she certainly hadn't felt that intoxicated…the events of the weekend had left her nerves far too frazzled for her to surrender in relaxation to the alcohol. Hearing a noise from the hall, she winced as she brushed her sore head against a silk pillow, and braced herself.

 _His_ footsteps were unmistakable.

"Well, Miss Ogden, or must I call you Mrs. Murdoch now? An accident was it? Funnily enough, you wounded me in an accident as well. Strange how those things happen," Donald Harvey drawled as she stirred herself up to a sitting position. She had no inclination to render herself supine in his presence.

"Strange indeed. You tell me, Mr. Harvey…was it the same sort of fate?" she asked sarcastically.

"Now, Mrs. Murdoch… _Julia_ …" he said patronizingly, "I am not here to antagonize you…I'm here to comfort you. It must be dreadful to discover that your husband is carrying on with one of your oldest friends…right under your nose as it were. Not only did he run off this morning, it seems he's even left you alone, even now, for more adventures. How inconsiderate of him! Of course, you can't be too surprised, Mrs. Murray still has quite the voracious appetite for men it seems… a _succubus_ if you will. He was powerless to resist her charms," Donald laughed as he sat next to her, far too close for her liking.

Julia prickled at the insinuation, but wondered what the cretin was getting at. _He clearly does not know William Murdoch;_ and he certainly did not know her if he thought she would fall for such a story.

Still, she wondered what the man was talking about. _William certainly hadn't engaged in sexual intercourse with Philomena or any other woman_ , she pulled her mouth into a sour smile. _But I wouldn't put it past Philomena to try._

"Mr. Harvey, your proclivities do not represent all men and I am most confident that he and Mrs. Murray do not know one another in that fashion," Julia replied, staring back at him. Despite her defiance, she kept an eye out for Phil to come back…anything to prevent her from being alone with this man.

 _"_ _Julia_ …"

The way he spoke her name positively ground on her ears. "I don't believe I've given you the honor or privilege of using my given name. I would prefer Dr. Ogden or Mrs. Murdoch if you please," she corrected him.

"Miss Ogden, I know _men_ ," Donald said, shaking his head and approaching her closely with a twisted smile. "And I know _men_ get what they want. For instance, everything is always arranged to my benefit, like this house party. I let nothing get in the way of what I want, haven't I made that perfectly obvious already…?"

Immediately fearing what the cretin may have done to prevent Phil from coming back, and knowing what was on his mind, Julia knew she had to defend herself. Glancing around the room, her eyes immediately lit upon a brass bookend that appeared to be of considerable weight.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

William and his companion made their way to the kitchen and servants' staircase.

"It is pretty dim in here, but I suppose that is because householders don't consider the comfort of their staff," Josiah Atkinson sounded annoyed about the narrow passageway up ahead of him.

William grunted. "Actually, I think this stairway was originally part of the main cottage. The narrow steep steps and landing were typical construction back then."

"What are we looking for?" Josiah asked as he stood in the kitchen doorway holding a hand torch trained where William indicated.

"That is a very good question. I suppose we are looking for a trip wire, some grease, a loose board, a problem with the handrail, a nail… anything to explain my wife's fall and the other suspicious phenomena. I cannot swear there is a relationship between these odd happenings and Samuel Wilmont's death, but I intend to find out."

The two men systematically checked the stairway, step by step, before William came upon a bit of blood, commenting that it was probably Julia's. "I think she landed here, so whatever caused her to fall is above this point." His hands played over every surface, tapping, pushing and pressing. Nothing moved until he tried to lever himself up with his palm—the entire stair tread heaved.

"Is that it?" Josiah brought the light closer. "It looks like the nail is bent in an arc. If one steps just right, the tread will flip, then settle right back. So, the results of wear and tear over time?"

William nodded, pushing down on the edge to get the wood to slant again. "I'd agree except for this." He fished a small note from underneath the stair tread, leaning towards Josiah's light. He read: " _Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall._ "

"Ah. First Corinthians, 10:12. Who places Bible verses under the stairs?" Josiah identified the quote.

William stood and rubbed his hands clean. "More to the point, who places _warnings_ and for whom was it placed?" He thought about Samuel's behavior, and Donald Harvey's again. "I think our next stop is Samuel's room."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The two men had just concluded their search when Julia burst upon them.

"William! It _has_ to be Donald Harvey…." Her voice was a squawk.

"Julia! What in the world?" William was dismayed at the state she was in, wild-eyed, and red faced. He motioned to Josiah to reopen Samuels' door and steered her to a chair. If he thought she had been upset before, her reaction to what was on the bed was astounding.

 _"_ _Good Lord!"_ Julia pointed to Samuel's corpse, peacefully and respectfully tucked into his bed. "Where did you find him?" she croaked.

William nodded to Josiah to close door. "Believe it or not, we found him right in his room," William explained. Julia's shocked protest required firm control. "He never left which is why you never saw any evidence of him being removed…he was hidden under the mattress, between that and the box spring."

Julia found a chair and sat. "It has to be Donald then. That makes the most sense…"

"Why do you say so?"

Both men looked at her. She formed her hand into fists. "He tried to attack me just a few moments ago. I heard him as much as admit he was the cause of all the accidents and Samuel's death."

"You what?!" William knelt down in front of her chair. "Did he hurt you in _any_ way?"

Julia raised her fist triumphantly. "Not a chance. I clocked him over the head with a brass bookend and fled. What evidence did you find?"

"Tell me exactly what happened." William reacted with alarm to his wife's tale, only feeling a little better after determining Harvey he was alive, perhaps with only with a broken nose. He asked Atkinson to check on the man just in case and report back.

"Actually, Julia…Josiah and I have discovered several pieces of paper in Samuel's possession, Bible verses in fact, but we think they were actually threats." William took them out of his pocket and explained about the stair tread. "I found this one where you tripped and fell," showing her the paper. "And see these others: Beware of Forgetting. Beware of Covetousness. Beware of Hypocrisy. Beware of a Wicked Heart. I can match them to at least some of the odd phenomenon in the house."

"Well. Donald certainly has made off hand Bible quotes, and despite his bulk he is physically capable of turning a mattress over, dumping Samuel underneath." Julia looked from Samuel's corpse to William's face, bewilderment growing in her face. "You must keep him from hurting anyone else!"

William spoke, regret filling his voice. "Julia. Donald Harvey has an alibi for where he was early this morning for the time of death. He was, er... trying to seduce Margret Swift. She confirms that. He says he was raiding the kitchen when we think the body was moved, and the kitchen staff have complained about food being taken."

"But it would take no time at all to dump his body by flipping the mattress. I don't think that is much of an alibi at all," Julia argued.

"Agreed. But, if we assume the person who killed Samuel and who hid his body are one and the same it cannot be Donald Harvey. He is in the clear. We need to look elsewhere." The whole thing was giving William a headache. "Julia? Are you up to examining Samuel's body while I tell Thelma and her sister the situation?"

Julia stood, brushing her skirts back in order and beginning to roll up her sleeves. She was so sure it had to be Donald Harvey! Her head pounded and she was feeling the liquor, but that never stopped her from doing her job. _If not that hateful man, then whom?_

erHer"And after I look at Samuel again?"

"Then I think I want to have a better look outside while we still have daylight. Samuel left the house at dawn and was dead in a couple hours. What have we missed?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Unfortunately, Samuel's corpse failed to yield anything more definitive about the bruising and lacerations on his body, nor enough unambiguous evidence pointing to a cause of death other than drowning. The lividity created by his being turned and stuffed between the mattress complicated matters. A full scale autopsy was, of course, out of the question.

"Gentlemen." Julia said to William and Josiah as she pulled the sheet back up over Samuel. "The body has no more to tell us. I cannot separate peri-mortem from post- mortem injuries. Samuel was an excellent swimmer, so I find it hard to imagine he drowned unless something else happened to him, but drown he did. That much is easy to determine. I was open to the idea of an accident: he goes in the water and is somehow overcome by debris. But hiding his body indicates foul play. We therefore need another avenue of inquiry."

"I feel that for everyone's safety, I must make a preliminary determination as to where and how Mr. Wilmont was murdered," William explained, "since we have, up to this point, ruled out suicide."

"Also, neither one of us have any jurisdiction here," Julia added.

"I know. We are still looking into the matter as our hostess has requested, until such time as we can contact the authorities," William reminded her.

With darkness soon approaching, the three of them went outside to comb the area surrounding where the body had been found. Not wanting to remain in the house with a potential murderer, several of the other guests followed them outside to the back lawn, where they all congregated.

William would have preferred not to have an amateur posse mucking around, especially since he knew that perpetrators enjoy inserting themselves into investigations and a guilty party might take the opportunity to cover up the crime. Interestingly enough, he noted that Donald Harvey was not among the assembled.

"Where shall we begin?" asked Josiah as they walked hurriedly. They were ever mindful of the encroaching twilight and didn't want to waste another day.

"We know where Samuel's body was pulled from the water, so we should look for any evidence of other disturbances. The working hypothesis is an assault. So first we look for evidence of a struggle," William instructed as the other guests nodded and joined in the search, working outward from where his body was found.

Not quite two minutes later, Josiah Atkinson shouted out for William, and by the time he arrived, others were not far behind, eager to see what had been discovered, Thelma in the lead.

Atkins pointed to a slender trail coming down from land towards shore. Walking a little ways towards it, William found barely visible footprints of misshapen mud, deforming due to the rain. "No one else has walked here, have they?" William asked the gathered crowd who offered a chorus of murmured dissents. "Then these are quite possibly Mr. Wilmont's. Please avoid them."

William walked alongside the trail, looking up a small rise; he recognized the place as he'd been there the day before on his ramble—the estate's quaint and peaceful cemetery.

Halfway between the shore and graveyard, a lone Cottonwood had succumbed to the fury of the previous evening's storm. Around it, the earth was freshly disturbed revealing a barely concealed body, long-ago skeletonized, the roots of the tree having thoroughly entwined with the bones.

William made his sign of the cross in blessing. Scanning the area, he frowned. "When I was up here the other day, this tree was standing. **"**

The other guests slogged right behind William, careful to avoid the actual footprints, coming to an abrupt halt once they understood what they were looking at. Leonetta screamed at the ghoulish sight and collapsed on the spot into Daphne's arms.

Thelma and her sister handed the swooning Leonetta over to her husband, then Thelma came closer to the grisly find, adjusting her spectacles. Her voice quavered. "What happened here?"

"The tree's shallow root system gave way and it toppled over; you can see the crown still has some leaves which made it even more vulnerable to wind and wet ground. **"** William patted his pockets in frustration – his tweed walking jacket did not have any of the small pockets full of tools and implements he was used to carrying. Instead he looked carefully at the tree's girth and made a calculation based on his own hand spans. "I'd say this tree was ten inches in diameter, so for this species that is approximately twenty years old. Might our body be its contemporary?" he wondered.

"No family member has been laid to rest here in half a century, maybe more." Thelma offered, shaking her head.

Julia looked at the remains and considered. "Though his clothes are in poor condition, the style and cut do suggest a recent corpse." She turned to Thelma. "I am so very sorry this is happening to you and your family. It is getting dark. Would you get everyone back to your house? And ask Mr. Shaggis if he would be so kind as to bring out a tarp to cover this poor soul?"

"I am going to wish to speak with him as well. What else can you say about our skeleton, Julia?" William asked.

Julia shrugged. "I have no idea the cause of death. There's no soft tissue to examine for a cursory determination. I'd have to examine the bones in greater detail and I might even need an excavation of the site for further physical evidence for that."

"Indeed. But a hasty burial in a shallow grave tends towards the circumstances being foul play. Even planting a fast growing tree over it to obscure the fact, points to guilt." William returned to the body. Kneeling down besides the remains and grabbing a nearby twig to lift the rags, he found a long gold chain attached to what had once been a fine timepiece hidden in the remains of the man's clothing, long-ago destroyed by the harsh elements and the roots of the tree. "What happened here twenty years ago?" he murmured more to himself than anyone else.

Brushing mud from the surface of the watch, William pocketed it, and stood to further survey the area when he heard Josiah Atkinson's voice.

"Detective Murdoch, I do believe I've found something," he called out. "I followed the track in the other direction."

William took Julia by the hand as he was in no mood to leave her alone in the current situation. They followed the ruined foot prints from the felled tree and skeleton back to the shore, coming upon what appeared to be the remains of a small jetty. Not too far from the water's edge, a yellow rowboat was upside down yet still tethered to one of the jetty's posts.

"This seems like a logical place for Samuel to enter the water," Atkinson offered, gesturing at the jetty's remnants. "Considering where his body was found."

"One set of tracks going directly away from the cemetery to shore. Julia… Is this coincidence?" William looked back and forth from shore to the downed Cottonwood, pointing up towards the cemetery.

"If I were not a participant in all of this, I would rule it an accident, but I'm reluctant to do so because there is something suspicious going on here," Julia explained.

William nodded. "Your thoughts, Josiah?"

"As you say, there is only a single set of footprints leading away from the gravesite to shore," Atkinson mentioned. "As I followed the trail, I walked on the edge so as not to destroy the original set, while looking for another set. I found none, and I would think that if he were being pursued or attacked, there would be more than one," he theorized.

"I concur, Josiah. I came to the same conclusion, as well as that the steps are evenly paced in walking stride, not a running one." William sighed. "On the other hand, he could have been attacked at the shoreline, making those foot prints irrelevant. The problem is we have found no evidence of an altercation."

Julia crossed her arms and paused. "I am interested in the psychology of this death. Samuel appears to have gone directly from the overturned tree to the water on his own. The question remains why did he do so?" Julia frowned, suddenly tired. "Was Samuel being Samuel, taking care of his family? Was he attempting to row to the other shore and get help and suffered a tragic accident after all?" Julia put the question out again. "Or was Samuel so distraught at what he discovered, he took his own life?"

"How? Then who and why hide his body?" Josiah asked. "It is the same reasoning against it being an accident; it seems unlikely to be a coincidence."

"Indeed. That logic is unassailable." William helped Julia up the last part of the trail. "It's time to go back and get to the truth."

Atkinson went on ahead, letting William and Julia walk at a slower pace to give her a break. Despite his declaration, William trekked towards the house in a contemplative mood, unsure the truth was going to reveal itself.

 _Logic aside, I still wonder how the discovery of that grave is related, if at all, to Samuel's death. Are there more deaths to come?_

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The four of them, William, Julia, Thelma and Daphne, were in the billiard room which William had commandeered. William succinctly laid out what the facts were as he knew them for the sisters to absorb.

"You really do believe Samuel was murdered? By someone who is in this house right now?" Daphne was distraught, leaning heavily against her sister. "That is horrible, just horrid."

Julia reached out to comfort her as well. "We have to admit to that possibility. What we do not know is why."

"And that?" Thelma pointed to the bulge in William pocket. "When I looked back I saw you extract something from…from the body under that tree. What is it?"

William pulled a linen square out of his pocket, unwrapping a piece of ruined gold chain attached to part of a crumpled pocket watch, the two halves of which had been bent and twisted shut. "Have you ever seen this before?" He handed it to her to examine.

Thelma took her glasses off to look more closely, pulling a silky strand of brown hair behind her ear to get it out of the way. "There is no inscription or marks to be read. I thought you said it was a male body you found. This looks is very small for a man's watch, although the chain is not very delicate." She passed it to Daphne who turned it over quizzically in her hand.

"Excellent observation, Mrs. White." William accepted the watch back. "Yet Julia assures us the remains are masculine."

"What has this got to do with Samuel's death?"

 _Thelma always did get right to the point,_ Julia observed. "It may be only coincidence, entirely unrelated, except for the fact we discovered Samuel went directly from the overturned tree to the lake where he perished. Are you sure you do not have any idea who might have been buried there?"

A tight voice interrupted. "Is it Peter?" Caroline Balfour strode stiffly into the room, startling them. She'd obviously been eavesdropping. "Mr. Murdoch, you said that tree was at least twenty years old. My fiancé went missing almost twenty years ago. Josiah tells me you found a watch with that body. Tell me if it is Peter Thayer!"

"Oh, Caroline, you can't believe…" Daphne objected.

"I will believe whatever I wish! Right before he disappeared, I gave Peter my brooch watch to use after his was damaged." Her mouth pulled into a fleeting smile of remembrance. "He told me he suffered some ribbing because of it. _Was that Peter_?" Her smile collapsed again and she turned to Julia for answers. "I know you never met him. Peter was six feet, two inches tall, dark hair."

"We have no idea, Caroline, and I did not take any precise measurements, but by the length of the femur I'd estimate the body _is_ over six feet in height…."

William handed the watch over to Caroline who fingered it softly. "Was this yours?" he asked.

Caroline did not answer that question, posing another in a harsh whisper. "Did Donald kill Samuel? Did Samuel realize that bastard must have killed my Peter, confronted him, and Donald killed again to keep the secret?" Her beautiful face was a mask of grief and rage.

"No." William coughed slightly. "Although that _would_ be a good motive for murder. But, no. Mr. Harvey has an air-tight alibi for where he was at the time of Samuel's death." Caroline's deep blue eyes bored into him, unblinking for what seemed like an eternity. "I am sorry," he finally said. Head down now, she wordlessly handed him back the watch and walked out of the room, her previous energy having evaporated.

"Is she right?" Daphne asked into the shocked silence of the room. "Is that her fiancé's remains out there? Is that the reason Sam was killed?"

Thelma finished the thought. "And is the killer responsible for hiding his body to cover up the crime somehow?"

Julia saw William was only half listening, her husband's face in that study in concentration he get gets when his logical mind is visualizing disparate data points and thinks he is on to something. She leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. "William? What is it?"

After a pause, William began to pace, speaking rapidly. "What if we view these as separate events? What if the person who moved Mr. Wilmont's corpse was _not_ the murderer, but the person responsible for all the supposedly amusing college hazing and pranks we have been experiencing?" William asked in an excited tone.

"Who in their right mind would think such a thing is humorous? So help me God!" Thelma vehemently interjected.

"That's just it, Mrs. White. We've been willing to dismiss these events as lads reliving their school days, but what if they weren't meant to be humorous?" William's proposed. "What if they were designed to intimidate? To frighten? Mr. Atkinson and I removed Mr. Harvey from our list of possible suspects for your brother's demise, but what if he played another role? What if hiding Samuel's body was merely another opportunity to invoke fear and tension in the house?"

"What on earth are you getting at, William?" Julia snapped, clearly feeling the sting of head injury accompanied by an approaching hangover.

"We've learned that Mr. Harvey was an interested buyer for this estate, correct Mrs. White?" William queried.

"Unfortunately, yes. I cannot fathom why Samuel agreed to let him be the first to view and make an offer on it. Everyone knows he is unscrupulous and does not conduct fair deals. I wanted him offer it to the Nottinghams or even Phil and Marcus, or to list it with a sales agent, but he insisted on showing it to Donald. What does that have to do with any of this?" Thelma wondered.

"The notes we found amongst your brother's belongings suggest a threat and possibly even blackmail. What if our malevolent spirits were none other than Mr. Harvey? A man who has been conspicuously absent for most of the day, I might add."

Daphne made a less than ladylike noise. "I have never subscribed to the idea this house was haunted."

William concurred. "There is another explanation. What I'm trying to say is that what if we don't have a murderer in our midst, but rather someone who is not above some malicious and underhanded means to obtain an excellent real estate bargain?" he asked the women with a grimace. _So much for the 'unassailable logic' of an hour ago,_ he complained to himself.

"That sounds _just_ like him." This time it was Julia who answered, her words laced with venom. "It is _exactly_ like Donald Harvey to exploit any advantage; that it made other people upset would only be a bonus for him."

"The only problem is that Samuel denied there were any pranks, only necessary repairs on an old house," William pointed out. "He received the threats, so that means he either did not know who was doing them, or he did and was keeping silent for some reason. If you are right he was protecting Mr. Harvey."

"Someone still killed my brother, Sam!" Daphne's voice was pained.

"Actually," Julia reported in a slightly calmer voice, "the evidence _is_ as compelling for an accidental drowning as for a murder…"

Thelma and Daphne looked at each other, then held a whispered consultation. "We need to know, one way or the other." They stood in unison, Thelma speaking for the pair. "We are going to find Donald as a start."

Julia held William back for a moment as the sisters went to search their house. "William, what if there is _no_ connection between the hazing and Samuel's death, but there _is_ a connection between Samuel and that corpse?"

"Precisely my worry. And you will recall Mr. Wilmont was most upset about Caroline Balfour attending this house party. If that _is_ her missing fiancé, rather than be as surprised as she appeared to be, perhaps she recently came to that knowledge. She might therefore have motive to revenge his death." He shook his head. "We have two mysteries. I think your friends are correct…we need to confront Mr. Harvey, and I have an idea about that." William winked at her.

Julia accepted the gesture—knowing he was in full detective mode and they were going to do this together. "Then we need more information about exactly when Peter Thayer disappeared."

"And who was here at the time." William had an idea about that too.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Looking in various rooms in the sprawling house, Julia searched for Caroline Balfour, who had disappeared, after learning that the corpse discovered outside was most likely her lover.

Just once, Julia wanted to wear pretty dresses, have a good time, and simply be Mrs. Murdoch. That opportunity was lost when Samuel's body was found, but she at least did have the consolation of working with William, of observing just exactly how his mind worked and how he put the pieces together to crack the diabolical puzzles he solved.

Eventually finding Caroline in disused study, Julia gingerly approached the woman sitting on an old, cracked leather chair by the window as darkness settled upon the lake.

"I'm very sorry for your loss, and of course that you had to find out like this, Caroline." Julia began as she stopped close enough to talk to the woman, yet far enough away to keep a respectful distance.

Caroline remained silent for quite a while. "Samuel was supposed to be my friend! For twenty years… _twenty years!_ I wondered what had happened to Peter. I always felt that there was something he was hiding, perhaps an affair…." she whispered before breaking down crying again.

"That's what we're trying to discern. Did they kill Peter in cold blood, was it an accident, what was it? What can you tell me about the last time you saw Peter?" Julia asked, keeping herself calm and patient.

"New Year's celebrations at my father's house, 1886. That's where his watch was destroyed in drunken revelry and I gave him mine as I was mostly to blame. We went back to our respective schools soon after and continued to correspond until he no longer returned my letters."

"When was that?"

"I'd say about Easter time, after our school break. Initially I was worried he did not write back, but did not think that much about it, since his course load was challenging. I assumed he was caught up. Then his parents found out he had left school when his university notified them of such. They notified me in turn," she added, looking down at the rumpled linen handkerchief she was twisting in her hands.

"Though they didn't attend the same school, Peter still knew Sam and Donald, and would occasionally go hunting with one another at their country houses on the weekends…." Her voice wavered. "I feel so guilty for having introduced Peter to them… When I asked Samuel and Donald if they knew anything about where he might have gone, they mentioned something about him deciding to venture out west; something he never, ever spoke of. I…. I never once suspected _this,"_ she splayed her hands. "All those years they lied to me, misled me, gave me false hope," her voice cracked as she began to cry again. "I had no closure. I never have been able to move on," she rasped, large tears running down her face.

"Caroline, you didn't deserve any of this. If it's any consolation, now you know that Peter never left you of his own accord," Julia awkwardly added, not sure of what to say in such a time as this.

"No, but that's still the best years of my life, gone. What was it that the gypsy woman said? Three can keep a secret if two are dead? Perhaps you should see Donald about what that secret might be," Caroline stated, turning away from Julia to signify that she wanted to be alone once more.

A few minutes later, Julia found William exiting the kitchen.

"Julia, did you find Caroline? Did she have anything to say?" he wondered as Julia met him at the base of the stairs.

"I did indeed. Sam and Donald even told her some tale about Peter starting a new life out west, but that never made sense to her," Julia explained, bringing William up to speed.

"That detail there seems to suggest that they were involved either directly or indirectly in his disappearance," William agreed.

"I think it gives great credence to the theory that one or both of them killed Peter, and one blackmailed and or threatened the other. I'd also wager that our culprit was Samuel and that Mr. Harvey was our extortionist," Julia added.

"I'm inclined to agree," William nodded. "I find it most unusual that Mr. Harvey has been conspicuously absent the past few hours," he added.

"I don't find it unusual that he's missing at all. He's up to something!" Julia snapped.

Holding up a hand in acknowledgement that his wife had been partially correct, he nodded. "I'm inclined to agree. Any idea where our friend might be in this house?" he asked.

Just then, a loud noise was heard from above their heads and William and Julia rushed upstairs to discover the source. Following the voices, they eventually found themselves in the tower, whereupon they discovered Thelma and Daphne Wilmont, confronting none other than Donald Harvey. Thelma had Donald's sleeve in one fist, and her other fist threatening his already wounded nose.

"I insist you put it back to the way it was at once, you monster! Or else I will have you charged with destruction of property until I can have you charged with two counts of murder," Thelma raged at the man who carried a screwdriver in his hand, near the railings at the top of the tower. He also had the light fixture apart.

 **At sounds just like him**

Donald snatched his hand away from her grasp. "Put it back!? I'm repairing it, you ungrateful wench. Here I am attempting to stabilize this ruin while you accuse me of destroying it. So much for doing a good work for a widow and an old maid! I was even going to offer to take it off your hands," he retorted.

"I find you odious, you corpulent pig! I own the house now, and I will never sell it to you, rest assured Mr. Harvey," Thelma shouted back.

"Are you sure? I thought it went to Nottingham! Will anyone else even offer you a cent for this haunted trap?" Harvey countered.

"You might want to save that money for a lawyer. " William used his clearest, most assertive voice. "There was never any haunting, was there Mr. Harvey?"

"Of course not. Only weak minded idiots believe in that clap-trap." Harvey's patronizing tone was nauseating.

"Which you had no compunction about exploiting." William quietly moved the Wilmont sisters back. "You stirred up old stories about the so-called 'Lakeside Lasher.' It was you behind the half-silvered mirror in the music room, wearing a disguise to frighten Mrs. Fairweather by bringing up a simple lamp to reveal yourself from the other side of the glass. Your rain slicker is dry now but the extra pair of shoes in your room are soggy. You created hoaxes, engineered mishaps to put pressure on Samuel Wilmont, to have him feel off balance."

"I did no such thing! This is an old house which the family has allowed to fall into disrepair. Is this how you investigate, _Detective_ Murdoch? Absurd accusations?"

William fished a handful of papers out of his pocket. "In my _investigation_ , we found threats to Mr. Wilmont that seem to be in your handwriting. Care to explain that?" William calmly asked. He showed his evidence side by side.

Harvey's face worked, his brown eyes flicking back and forth showing the wheels obviously turning in his head. A dismissive smile emerged on his lips. "That was a joke between Samuel and me, all in good fun. Merely revisiting our college days, Murdoch. Something with which I understand you have no experience…"

William ignored the dig and persisted. "It also makes you complicit in harming my wife, who could have been even more severely injured earlier today as the result of your alterations to the house."

"Your wife was never the most graceful…"

William knew Harvey was trying to derail the conversation, and it took all his might to remain under control. "Part of your so-called pranking was turning Mr. Wilmont's body under his mattress so it would appear to be a supernatural event."

"All right, yes. So what? Sam himself would have gotten the humor in it."

Daphne hissed, launching herself at Harvey to slap him; Thelma held her back with effort. "How dare you!" she cried.

"That behavior makes you look most suspicious in Samuel's death," Julia inserted herself angrily. "You involved yourself in obfuscating physical evidence. Even a failed medical man should know that much. It rather points to your guilt!"

"I had nothing to do with Sam's death." Harvey was studiously casual, practically gloating. "I was otherwise engaged. Your approach is ham-handed, Murdoch."

"Not so fast!" William stopped him. "You have field-glasses, do you not? Quite powerful ones." William gestured. "I know because I borrowed them to look out your bedroom window. You have a clear view of the Nottingham-Wilmont family cemetery. I believe you saw that tree had fallen over and knew exactly what that meant. You told Samuel, didn't you? You threatened to reveal the conspiracy!"

"You cannot prove that!"

"But you knew, didn't you? Mr. Shaggis confirms you were here in late April 1886—with Samuel and Peter Thayer. An unseasonably warm day; he recalls it was the earliest in the year he'd ever been asked to take out the boats which is why it stuck in his mind. You told Caroline Balfour that her fiancé had confessed to you he had a yearning to go out west. That was not true, and that lie means you knew he was dead. The only question is how you killed Peter Thayer. I am certain an autopsy will reveal that in time."

The energy of the space crackled. Daphne and Thelma were frozen in place, glaring at Donald Harvey. Beside him Julia was breathing in short gasps. William let the tension build. Julia had given her insights about this man, how he cannot stand to be dismissed or lose the spot light. William therefore turned around to leave.

He got to the first step before Harvey erupted in a red- faced screech. "You don't understand. There was no conspiracy to kill Thayer. I was merely helping Sam out! Thayer drowned out on the lake, an accident. Sam panicked and I helped him dig a grave and burry the poor sod. A tragedy, which would have ruined Sam and he knew it." He sneered. "But after all Thayer was _a nobody_."

"A cover up is as bad as the crime, Mr. Harvey. It is very convenient for you that Mr. Wilmont is not here to dispute your account." William's voice was flat. Behind Julia was Caroline Balfour whose wounded look and bruised eyes stared up, next to the bloodless face of Dorcas Harvey. "And this morning?"

"Yes I told him I thought his secret was uncovered. I did not have to kill him to protect myself, and Margaret will attest to where I was. Sam was weak. He had no stomach. He threw himself into the water, just out of spite!" Harvey whined. "Sam was going to sell to me… and I would have gotten away with it if not for you meddling twits."

Daphne gasped and sobbed against her sister.

Harvey's small eyes burned out of his plump cheeks, spittle graced his mouth in a mockery of righteous indignation.

Julia was mesmerized by the whole confrontation, not even aware she had been holding her breath…. which got immediately knocked out of her as Skidoo barreled past, the animal pushing William aside as well as he galloped up to the old observation platform—and straight into Donald Harvey.

Later on when Julia replayed the sequence of events, she and William would disagree on the exact order.

They do agree that Skidoo's howl blended eerily with Harvey's "Nooooo…" as the man toppled back into the sabotaged bannister and that Dorcas Harvey never budged from her position on the stairs; she kept staring curiously at her hands as if they did not belong to her, declaring that the dog pulled away and her hands could not hold on to the leash.


	12. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

Julia held her own in the interview with Newcastle's constabulary. " _No, Detective. I merely preserved the remains and secured any evidence with the help of Detective Murdoch. And I have no official conclusions about Mr. Wilmont's death or the body found near the family cemetery. And yes, I was a witness to Mr. Harvey's death, which appeared to me to have been an accident. Mr. Harvey explained he was trying to repair the balustrade, which he fell against when the dog jumped at him. It just gave way."_

She explained her statement to William as they packed the last trunk.

"I must say, I'm rather thankful that they found it incredulous that a woman was a coroner and they were not at all interested in my thoughts on the matter," Julia told him as they sat on the bed, chores complete. "For once, I'm quite happy that they're not taking me seriously," Julia shrugged, smiling up at William.

"Don't feel too bad. They did not take me very seriously either.

I'm sorry that I dragged you all the way out here for this, William. I was hoping for some fun and excitement, but nothing of this magnitude," she wryly stated.

"I can't say that I enjoyed myself very much, but I am quite relieved that I was here with you. I shudder to think what may have happened had I not been," William commented. "Not that you're helpless, of course," he quickly added upon seeing her face.

Laughing, Julia shook her head before stealing a quick kiss. "While I'm quite certain that I would have found a way to prevail, I'm thankful that I had you here looking out for me. Well, that, and keeping me entertained at night," she giggled before remembering herself. "Poor Caroline. She finally got the resolution she's been waiting for all these years, but who knows whether or not it will truly set her free. At least she knows he didn't leave her willingly, but I cannot imagine that knowing he was killed by a friend is much of a consolation," she cringed, shaking her head at this last part.

"Julia, I am not sure we can truthfully know who killed Peter Thayer or his manner of death. We only had Donald Harvey's word that Samuel was responsible for the events which led to Mr. Thayer's death, if indeed that is who is buried out there. We also only had Mr. Harvey's word Samuel was distraught enough over the corpse to end his own life rather than deal with the consequences. For good or ill, his statements to us are now hearsay."

"It is enough to begin an investigation…at least for Detective Murdoch, is it not?" Julia knew her husband.

William silently agreed, and shrugged. "Apparently, Peter Thayer has no remaining family. Caroline Balfour, on the other hand may wish to have the record set straight, and I have left our contact information with her should she need anything from either of us. Miss Balfour and the Wilmont sisters have remained civil for far; remarkable, really."

"Do you think so? I like to think is it because we were so close, a bond forged under difficult times, stronger than family. It is hardly Thelma or Daphne's fault and I doubt that Donald Harvey's version of events is truthful—I think we all believe it was a stupid accident which Donald and Samuel covered up—probably for Donald's sake. I assume it also helps that Caroline has Clint Harrington now."

"I fear that Mr. Wilmont's reputation, and that of his family will be destroyed, even if the outcome is inconclusive. I am sorry."

Julia grimaced, shaking her head. "However, the police in smaller locales as this aren't quite as thorough as the Toronto Constabulary. Given the wealth and influence of the Wilmont family, they may be willing to let it go without further comment. I don't know if I have a problem with that, as what good does launching a murder investigation involving two dead suspects accomplish? It seems to me that it would only hurt the surviving family members."

William shrugged. He didn't like it, but he couldn't argue with her statement either. _Besides, it's not your murder investigation to lead._

Sensing his unease, she placed her hand upon his thigh and gave it a light squeeze. "Are you as satisfied as I am that Donald's death was an accident?" she wondered.

William hesitated. _Was there any proof Dorcas Harvey deliberately aimed that massive dog at her husband as if it was a cannon?_ "Skidoo knocked over enough people already this weekend, so does that explain it as an accident." _….Or does it lead one to believe that knowledge was deliberately used?"_ he asked himself. He said only: "I am glad I am not heading up the investigation."

Julia could not agree more. "All of this tragedy… all because of poisonous secrets and the lengths people will go to keep them. I am most relieved that we have no secrets from one another, William. However painful it was when we had to have it out with one another," snuggling into his side.

Wincing inwardly, William thought back again to the time of Julia's first wedding and the dark place he'd inhabited. As loathe as he was to have any secrets from his wife, he failed to see how informing her of such events would be of any benefit to either of them. He'd long ago confessed his sinful deeds to his priest and that would have to suffice.

 _However, there is one secret that I should share…_ "So about secrets, Julia. I've been reluctant to tell you, but since we're sharing, I must tell you about your friend Philomena. It seems I may have unwittingly encouraged her… attentions, shall we say," he confessed, scrunching up his face as he did so.

"Oh, isn't it marvelous how devoted she is to Marcus. I hope you haven't done anything to imperil that, William," Julia commented with a perfectly straight face.

"I… uh…" William was flummoxed and unsure of what to say until his wife's laughter broke the tension. "Of course, you were joking," he nervously laughed himself.

"So she made her interest in you known, did she? I'm not at all surprised, and I was expecting it even. I did tell you that while we are friends, we have always been very competitive with one another. Besides, Phil has **_always_** enjoyed a fine male physique such as you yourself possess, We used to joke that she set out to devour them as one might with a steak. Like a lioness, she is a man-eater, you might say," she laughed, squeezing his thigh again.

"You knew?" William was shocked.

"I certainly suspected. In truth, I would have been surprised if she hadn't tried anything. I can see where a man, any man, may be afraid to speak up about unwanted sexual advances, especially if the perpetrator is someone like Phil. Who would believe him? It would be humiliating, eh?"

William had not thought about it in just that way until she brought it up. It did not feel good to do so now.

"But I wasn't worried, William. I know you, and even though Donald Harvey sought to undermine me by making me think that you were enjoying a dalliance with her, I knew you would never do such a thing."

" _He_ knew?" William's jaw dropped again.

"Oh William, _everyone_ knew. That's who Phil is, and I doubt she'll ever change. I'm sure there are some who may have thought that you did rendezvous with her, but I don't care what they think, because I know the truth."

William's face flared red. "I should have said something earlier, but I wasn't sure how you'd take it," he admitted.

Nodding her head, she clasped his hand in hers. "That's been something of a theme for this weekend, hasn't it?" she asked.

"Yes, I suppose it has. I'm thankful that it didn't cause any problems between us." He squeezed her hand back.

"I've been thinking about how hard it is to break the silence. Consider Donald Harvey for that matter. I should have been braver and said something about him earlier. If I had, perhaps he would have been banished from the group years ago, and all of this mess may even have been avoided," she posited.

"No Julia. I know you are the psychologist here, but I have listened to your counsel in the past. It is just like the victims of abuse to believe they are at fault. You are not at fault for what transpired here. It wasn't safe for you to come out with that information, and though you'd done nothing wrong, the time was not right for you to come forward. You were silent because you had to be, not through cowardice."

"Perhaps…" she trailed off. "But enough about secrets. That the end of this. Take me home now, please."

 _Home. Two rooms and a bath in a hotel._ He thought about how that all might change if, _when,_ Julia becomes pregnant and presents him with a child. He looked out the window, considering the grand property surrounding them at the moment then let his gaze rest on Julia.

"Yes. The end." He pulled her closely, contentedly enveloping her in an embrace.

 _She_ _is home._ "Of course, Mrs. Murdoch."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

 _…_ _later on the train…._

"So, William. I am thinking Montreal."

William had been lulled into a restful state by the movement of the train carriage. He unstuck his eyes. "Humm..?"

"You promised me, we will take a weekend anywhere I like. All of this reunion business has me missing Montreal. I think another train trip is in order…"

William's brain tried to grasp the logical argument against that…the promise was to make up for _not_ going with her to Newcastle. To have more time away from work was going to be impossible. He made his vision sharpen on his wife, her teasing face, his pendant at her throat.

 _Nothing is impossible._

"Montreal is lovely in Spring…."

-END-

 **Authors' Note: Thank you "Dutch" for the beta read. Thank you to "Big Red" for helping out with E.**

 **We 'borrowed' our story concept from another genre (in our defense-just like MM does.) We promise to send it, and it's thinly-disguised characters back, now that we are done with it/them. All 'original' characters are fictional and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is pure coincidence and evidence of lack of imagination on our parts. Maureen Jennings and the MM show writers are such good sports for letting us play with their creations (of course their generosity might have something to do with complete ignorance about what we have been up to…shhhh –don't tell!)**

 **Did you guess what 60's animated mystery this fic was an homage to? We hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Some historical factoids (the internet is a wonderful thing!) To wit: Newcastle was indeed the Salmon Capital of Lake Ontario for a hot minute. Wiki says** **Samuel Wilmot** **became interested in the salmon as early as 1860 and built a "fish hatchery" at Newcastle - one of the world's first. Wilmot would eventually become head of fisheries for Canada, and in the 1890s he was running a small generating station which supplied Newcastle with its first electrical power - from sunset until about 12:00 midnight.** **There is a spit of land sandwiched between the Wilmot Creek and Lake Ontario that we chose on which to put our fictional estate.**

 **If anyone out there is willing to be our research buddy (as in when you read this you go: Ooh! Uff! Yikes! Like you are walking barefoot over glass when you see errors) please PM – we are all ears.**


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